How Things Work
by Crawler
Summary: It's hard to be both a Cheerio and a Gleek at WHMS, especially if you're a guy, but Kurt wasn't expecting the year to be like this... Kurt/Sam, eventual Kurt/Puck
1. Mechanics

**Title: **How Things Work

**Author: **Spider

**Pairing,Character(s): **Kurt, Finn, Sam, Puck, Burt, Carole, and all the rest of the ensemble.

**Rating: **G for this chapter.

**Spoilers: **Season 1

**Disclaimer: **DEFINITELY not mine.

**Summary: **Junior year brings with it a whole new set of challenges, including a new student who refuses to follow the rules of WMHS. Kurt's just trying to find his way in a world of changing reputations, a sort-of brother, and the magic of sex.

**Notes: **So, rumors say Kurt's getting a boyfriend named Sam next season. I don't know about you, but I'm cringing at the thought of even more characters being added when screentime is already stretched so thin among the current cast. Sam's gonna have to be pretty awesome to get away with dating Kurt. Either that, or he's a better manipulator than our favorite divas...

**

* * *

**

**How Things Work**

_Mechanics_

_

* * *

_

"I was planning on going shopping with Mercedes tomorrow," Kurt said as he buttered a slice of bread and offered it to his father. "But she's not sure if she needs to go on a 'family bonding experience' and take a rain check. Would you like some, Carole?"

"Oh yes, please," Carole said, holding out her plate to accept the slice of bread Kurt was offering. It was homemade and only an hour old, but Kurt had used the bread machine and set it on the timer when he woke up this morning, so it didn't really count. Still, it was warm and went perfectly with the chicken dinner she had helped him make.

"I was thinking, if she does, I'll come down to the garage. It's been a while..." Kurt glanced over at his dad with a little smile before nodding toward Finn and raising both the butter knife and an eyebrow in question. _One for you_?

"Do you actually _work _at the garage?" Finn asked, accepting the bread from Kurt and somehow managing to inhale half of it in one bite.

"Of course I do," Kurt said, bristling only a little defensively. It had taken some time and a lot of talking to get Finn readmitted to the house, but Burt had been impressed by Finn's Gaga rescue, and the four Hudson-Hummels were trying their best to smooth things out. Still, things had changed. Kurt hated how things had changed. There was now an uncomfortable scrutiny of everything Finn said to him, or how Kurt responded. He had to be extra-careful to give Finn his space (not that he had ever perved on Finn when they shared the room—he was gay, but that didn't mean he'd steal glances at Finn when he was changing! Unless it was just his shirt or something...) and Finn seemed to be watching his words. Most of the time. "I _do _know a thing or two about cars..."

"But... but it's _you_," Finn said, his forehead wrinkling as he waved his bread in a gesture at Kurt. "You're all girly and stuff..."

Kurt could _feel _his father tense beside him, and he kicked Burt's foot under the table. He could fight his own battles, thank you very much. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't know the difference between an impact and a tappet wrench."

"A what? No, I mean, no no, that's not what I meant!" Finn seemed to be realizing he had made a mistake and was trying to backpedal. "I mean, it's _you_. You're all fussy about your clothes and being clean and stuff like that. Not because you're gay. But working with cars is dirty, right?"

Kurt had to smile a little, relaxing, and he gave his father's foot another kick. "Yes, I _am _rather fastidious about my appearance. But I do own coveralls, Finn, and work gloves. I would sooner die than get grease all over my Marc Jacobs..."

"Finn, you've always wanted to learn about cars," Carole said, stepping smoothly between the boys before Burt had a chance to speak up. "Why don't you go to the garage with Kurt tomorrow? He can show you a few things..." Kurt could just hear what remained unsaid: _and it would be a great bonding experience. _Carole tried so hard to push Finn and Kurt together. After Finn's faggy outburst, she was always paying close attention to what Kurt and Finn did together, trying so hard to get them to get along. A few months ago, Kurt would have been over the moon at getting Finn's mother involved in trying to push them together, but now... now Kurt honestly didn't know what to think of Finn. He was still gorgeous, of course, and still sweet, but he wasn't perfect anymore, and Kurt could actually breathe in his presence without getting all dippy and Rachel-y. Summer vacation had made things definitely odd in the Hudson-Hummel house, but Kurt and Finn were falling into a routine of sharing their room without usually being in the room together, except at night. And the addition was coming along quite nicely. Finn's room would be smaller than Kurt's, but it had more windows and would be close to the kitchen, a fair trade, in Finn's opinion.

Burt had remained silent through this exchange, and Kurt looked up to see his father studying him, waiting for something. He gave a little smile and a nod, turning his eyes from his dad to Finn. "That would be a great idea. It would be such a travesty for you to be part of the Hummel family and not know your way around your own engine."

"Sounds great," Finn said with a nod and a relieved smile.

* * *

"Are you really sure you're okay with this?" Finn was asking the next day, though, adjusting the cuffs of his ill-fitting coveralls anxiously.

"Stop squirming," Kurt retorted around a mouthful of pins as he knelt at Finn's feet. "Or I'll stab you with the needle." They hadn't had any spares that were tall enough for Finn without being far too big in the middle, so Kurt had suggested Finn go with a smaller pair and he'd let down the hems. _It's a quick fix, won't take more than five minutes_. The sleeves were a bit too short, but it was better than Finn's idea of just wearing grungy clothes. How would that _look_, to the customers! "We'll have to get you your own coveralls, ones sized to you, before you plan on coming back, but this will do for today." He patted Finn's shin before rising back to his feet, plucking the pins from his mouth. "Hmm..." He set his head to the side, studying the taller boy, and Finn shifted awkwardly. "I suppose it'll have to do," he said after a moment. "But if those sleeves bother you, let me know. I'll bring the needle, just in case."

"Thanks," Finn said. "Really, though, if you wanted to spend time with your dad..."

"He'll be working," Kurt said, waving his hand. "It's not like we get all mushy at the garage. He does his job, I do mine, and we swap horror stories over dinner. This one time, I swear to god, there was a six foot _python _in the engine of a car we towed in. I will admit to screaming like a girl when I saw that thing move." He grinned. "Dad flipped out when he heard me. Thought I had cut my hand off or something."

"Can that happen?" Finn's eyes were wide. "Get your hand cut off..."

Kurt laughed, shaking his head and heading toward the door, tucking the needle and thread into a pocket of his own coveralls (identical to Finn's, except his fit him perfectly and had his name in the patch over his chest. Finn didn't have a patch). "Nah. Not for the stuff I'll show you today, at least. Just behave yourself, and you'll be fine."

"Junior!" When Kurt hopped out of Finn's truck at the garage, he was greeted enthusiastically by one of the other mechanics. He grinned and waved back.

"Hey there, Jason! You gonna let me use your torch today?"

"Hell no!" Jason laughed back, giving Finn a nod before turning back to his work.

Finn looked over questioningly at Kurt and Kurt shrugged. "They never let me weld. Just because of one little accident..."

"He nearly burnt down the shop." Burt had come up behind the pair, clapping his hands on their shoulders. "Kurt, Mrs. Johannesburg brought her car in. Should be simple enough."

"Again?" Kurt rolled his eyes but gave a nod. "C'mon, Finn. Mrs. Johannesburg is like the hypochondriac of the automotive world." He tugged surprisingly well-fitted work gloves out of his pocket and headed toward a white station wagon.

"Hypo-what?"

"Thinks things are wrong when everything's fine," Kurt explained. "There usually _is _something wrong, but I'm putting my money on a burnt-out bulb. Still, I'll show you how to run a complete diagnostic. It makes her feel better."

It was so _odd_, being better than Finn at something completely masculine. At least he wasn't entirely hopeless. "Now turn that… no, the other way. Lefty-loosey."

"But I am turning it left…"

"No, you're turning it right. Here, see? Left this way…" Kurt circled his finger clockwise around the nut. Both of the boys were elbow-deep in the engine of the car, and Finn had somehow managed to get grease smeared across his nose. Kurt's exposed skin was spotless, but it had taken him years of practice to reach that level of expertise.

Finn grunted a little as he loosened the nut with a nod. "How'd you get so good at this, anyway?"

"I've been working here for years," Kurt said, tugging his sleeve up to rub an itch on his own nose with a clean part of his wrist. "Ever since… since I was seven, really."

"Seven?" Finn frowned over at Kurt. "Isn't that awfully young?"

"It's not like I was fixing cars when I was seven," Kurt said. "Dad just had me fetching and carrying and holding. Learning the names of the tools and parts and stuff."

"But… _seven_!"

Kurt sighed, leaning over to check the crankshaft. "It was… after Mom died. Dad… he didn't like being apart from me. Before school, he'd always give me a really tight, long hug, and sometimes he wouldn't let go. He'd call me in sick. And just as soon as school got out, he'd be right there, waiting to pick me up. The garage would function without him for the ten minutes it took him to come get me and return." He gave a nod, pulling back a little to wipe his gloves on a rag. "Then he'd sit me in the corner and make me finish my homework, but he'd always be looking over at me, you know? Making sure I was still there. And when I finished my work, he'd put me to work in the shop. I liked it. Liked being near him. He wasn't the only one afraid of losing the rest of his family."

"I… don't know if Mom did that," Finn said. "I was just a baby when Dad died…"

"She probably did," Kurt said. "It's easier with a baby. No school, and they want you to hold them all the time anyway."

"Yeah." Finn nodded slowly. "Most of my baby pictures, she's hugging me really tight."

Kurt glanced behind him, at where his dad was working on a transmission. "I… when I started middle school, I told him to knock it off. I didn't want…" He gave a wry little laugh, shaking his head. "I didn't want to be seen as _gay_, getting hugged by my dad, having him fuss over me…"

"Dude," Finn said. "You _are _gay. No offense."

"None taken," Kurt said, glancing at Finn with a little smile. "But hey. I was eleven and stupid. I still came over to the garage, but I took the bus. I… I don't know. We kinda grew apart. He was still there, he just… he kept his distance, like I told him to. And I…" He looked down at the engine, his smile fading. "I missed him."

"You still miss him," Finn said, unusually astute. Kurt's eyes flickered to him in surprise before dropping back to the car in front of them. Unusually astute, perhaps, but Finn also was usually pretty on the ball about how his friends were feeling.

"Yeah." Kurt rested his arms on the edge of the car and sighed. "High school changed things again. I wanted my dad back, but by then…" He shrugged one shoulder. "Things were awkward between us. And they were getting better, and I thought…" Kurt shook his head with another wry smile. "Well, hooking up our parents was both one of my more brilliant and definitely not one of my better ideas."

"Mom loves Burt," Finn said.

"And Dad really loves Carole," Kurt replied. "I mean, he _really _does. He told me. She's not Mom, she'll never _be _Mom, but she can bridge the gap Mom left behind."

Finn was quiet for a while, tugging the nut loose and setting it aside before speaking up. "I like having... having a dad. I like _your _dad. But..."

"He's always wanted a straight son," Kurt said, interrupting Finn's attempts to verbalize his thoughts. "And the captain of the football team to boot. You're a much better son than I am."

"Hey!" Finn swung the wrench up, and Kurt instinctively leaped back, though the wrench wasn't aimed at him. "Don't talk like that!"

"Keep it down," Kurt hissed, reaching out to push the wrench away, leaning back over the engine, though his eyes flicked toward the other side of the shop, where his dad was working. "You don't want him to throw you out again, do you?"

Finn sighed, the wrench sagging to rest on the engine. "You don't get it, Kurt. I'm not the better son. You just said it—he threw me out. _You _are his son. You're the one he sticks up for."

"He-"

"And," Finn said, lifting the wrench to point it at Kurt, "you're so much more of an ideal son to my mom, you know? She _loves _having someone to talk clothes with and cook with her and all that shit you like. She's really happy now, and it's not just from Burt." He shook his head a little. "I never realized she wasn't..."

Kurt hesitated before reaching over to cover Finn's hand with his own gloved one. "Okay," he said. "How about we don't talk about our parents anymore? We've both got one pretty awesome one, after all."

"Yeah," Finn said, his fingers twitching around the wrench beneath Kurt's hand (that was totally gay, but would Kurt be offended if he pulled his hand away?). "And we're lucky that they want to share us."

"Right," Kurt said with a little smile, lifting his hand away. "Okay." He cleared his throat a little and nodded. "We've got to get this engine put back together today, so you need to pay attention."


	2. Reputations

I am determined to not out-post my writing for this story, so look for updates every Thursday!

Of course, I'm also a review-whore. Reviews are my crack. I may be able to be persuaded to post a chapter on Mondays as well... if you're _really _persuasive...

And I have a contest! I'm truly madly deeply in love with the boots Kurt is wearing in episode 3, Acafellas, when he has taken the Glee girls to Carmel High to meet Dakota Stanley, the ankle-high ones he's paired with his red, knee-length, form-fitting sweater (h t t p : / / i 2 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / y 6 / F a n t i s m a l S p i d e r / C a t z / A d o p t i o n z / K u r t R e d B o o t s 1 . j p g (and 2 . j p g)). If you can identify those boots for me, get me a designer, I will be more than happy to send you _everything I have written _for this fic. So you know the extent of this reward, I have just finished up with chapter sixteen and will almost certainly have more written by the time you read this. One winner only, first to get me a designer gets the fic!

Also, I cannot believe I forgot to mention this in the first chapter. This story is dedicated to Fox, my biggest fic-reader and cheerleader I could possibly ask for. It would not be the same without you!

Additional thanks to my other guinea-pig readers, Ayu, Jormy, and Wolfjet. Thanks so much for your help!

I do not own Glee. If I did, Chris Colfer would be my best friend (and he'd tell me what boots those were).

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**How Things Work**

_Reputations_

* * *

The rest of the boys' summer passed in very much the same way. When Kurt wasn't out with Mercedes or the other Gleeks, he was usually at the garage. Finn would only go to the garage if Kurt was there, as he wasn't confident enough in his knowledge of cars to not have the help of the smaller boy at his side. By August, however, the two were working on a personal project, souping up Finn's beat-up old truck. As the months passed, so did the awkwardness between the two teens, and they even managed to forge something of a solid relationship. Kurt wasn't sure how long it would last once Finn was surrounded by jocks and the social constructs of high school, but he was enjoying it while he had it.

Football practice started before school did this year. Coach Tanaka wanted his guys to have the best chance of winning. Maybe they could even bag _two _games this year. He had called up the Hummels to beg Kurt to rejoin the team, but Kurt had politely declined. "I can't be a Cheerio _and _a football player," he had explained. "Both teams perform at the games! I'm sure you'll find another kicker..."

That, and Coach Sylvester would probably have his balls if he ditched her for the jocks. Not that he wanted anything more to do with the sweaty neanderthals than he already did.

Finn returned from the first practice with a scowl on his face, but Kurt sent him to shower before dinner (you are _not _joining us at the table when you smell like that!). Over the meal, the whole story came out.

"We've got a new guy on the team," Finn said, helping himself to corn on the cob. "Samuel White. He just moved here from New York."

"New York _City_?" Kurt asked, looking up. "Why would anyone choose _Lima _over New York?"

Finn shrugged. "Hell if I know. But he's swaggering around, bragging about how good he was 'back home,' and Coach is thinking about letting him be the QB."

"He can't do that!" Kurt protested. "You're the QB!"

"New year, new season," Burt pointed out. "Positions can change. Is he any good?"

Finn shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno. He didn't fall during practice, but most of us didn't. We're gonna have to fight it out next week."

"I'm sure you'll keep QB, sweetie," Carole said with a smile. "You're the best player on that team. Coach Tanaka knows that. No new boy'll be able to kick you out."

Kurt nodded his agreement, and Finn grinned, looking down at his plate. "Least I've still got my own cheering section..."

* * *

"So, do you want me to trash his rep?"

In the play-off for QB, Finn had just barely squeaked ahead of White, and he had spent most of the rest of the summer holidays ranting to Kurt about how much of a dick White was. Now the two were walking in to school together (Finn had given Kurt a ride in his freshly-repainted truck, as Burt still hadn't returned Kurt's baby to him) and Kurt was rolling his eyes at another of Finn's rants. This time, it was about how the other guys listened to White more because he wasn't part of 'Homo Explosion.'

"What?" Finn stared down at his almost-step-brother, surprise in his eyes.

Kurt just tilted down his D&G shades and looked back up at Finn. He had really gone all out for his first-day-back outfit, a shopping trip with Mercedes in Dayton had resulted in a whole new collection of Kenneth Cole for his wardrobe (Finn was just in his letterman jacket, jeans, and a t-shirt). A rolled up _Vogue _in his hand was actually one of his accessories. "Do you want me to trash his rep for you?"

"Who, White? How would you... you couldn't do that!"

"Why not?" Kurt asked with a smug smile, settling his shades back on his nose. "All I'd have to do is flirt a bit, and then White'll be painted with the fag brush just as much as you." He shrugged. "Maybe even moreso, if I do it right. And then you will once again be the superior heterosexual jock and have your control back."

"But that's not... you wouldn't... no. No, don't do that. It's not nice."

"Since when have jocks played nice?" Kurt asked with a dry laugh. "And we Cheerios are _known _for our catty revenge..."

Finn just shook his head. "He hasn't... actually done anything wrong."

"Hey, Hudson!"

Both boys looked up at the greeting, looking across the parking lot at the one calling out. Kurt reached up, lowering his shades again, his lips parting for a moment at the Adonis before him.

"White," Finn said, with a nod.

Samuel White was tall, easily taller than Puck (though not quite up to Finn's height), with short blond hair and dimples. _Dimples_! Kurt sagged a little as the other guy grinned at them, heading closer. Dimples and a big smile with just the right ratio of tooth-to-gum (Kurt would not deny his study of people's smiles). "Who's this?" White asked, nodding to Kurt.

"This's Kurt," Finn said. "Sorta my step-brother."

Kurt glanced questioningly up at Finn, and Finn shook his head firmly. With a smile, Kurt pushed his shades back into place and held out his hand. "Kurt Hummel," he said, trying not to let any of his inner squeal show on his face as White took his hand in a firm grip. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard some stuff about you," White said with a nod. "The guys've mentioned you a few times..."

Kurt's smile flickered for a half second before freezing in its usual mask of politeness, and he dropped his hand back to the side. 'The guys' would have been the jocks who made a habit of throwing him in the dumpster, so surely, White wouldn't have heard anything good. The new boy was still grinning, though, and not in a mean way. "I suppose, then, it is only fair to give you a warning. This should be the last time we ever exchange civil words, if you value your reputation."

White actually _laughed _at that, reaching out to thump Kurt's shoulder. "I think I can pick who I want to 'exchange civil words with' myself, reputation be damned." He nodded at Finn again. "Anyway, I gotta run. Promised Coach I'd have a few words with him before class. Catch you later!"

"Yeah, bye," Finn said, raising a hand in farewell.

"See you around, Hummel," White added, hefting his bag over his shoulder before giving Kurt a wink and heading off.

Kurt resisted the urge to turn and stare after White. "Is he gone?" he asked after a minute.

Finn glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, can't hear us."

Kurt immediately turned on Finn, whapping him with the rolled up _Vogue _he carried. "You didn't tell me he was hot!"

"Ah!" Finn raised his arms to ward off the blow. "The fuck! What does that have to do with anything?"

Kurt tucked the magazine into his bag and sniffed, lifting his chin. "I would have appreciated a bit more warning. Here I've been picturing some testosterone-laced thug like Azimio, when really, you've been competing with _Apollo_..."

"Who?"

Kurt just laughed, raising his hand dismissively as he strode toward the school. "I'll explain later. Promised Mercedes I'd catch her at her locker, and she _needs _to hear this. Catch you after school?"

"Yeah... uh... okay..."

Kurt grinned and pulled the school doors open, leaving Finn still hopelessly confused outside.


	3. Settling In

You guys are absolutely incredible, you know that? I set a number of reviews (25, if you were wondering, between my LJ and ) that would persuade me to put the next chapter up on Monday instead of Thursday. Imagine my surprise when, by the end of Thursday, I already had **23**! The rest of the week has given me the rest of the desired reviews, and voila, an update on Monday is your reward!

While there's nothing you can do to get me to update before Thursday this time, still feel free to review. I love reviews. I love them very much. I will do my best to reply to every single review, if you're signed in.

There still has been no identification of Kurt's boots from episode 3 (h t t p : / / i 2 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / y 6 / F a n t i s m a l S p i d e r / C a t z / A d o p t i o n z / K u r t R e d B o o t s 1 . j p g (and 2 . j p g)) so the contest still holds. You give me the designer, and I shall give you everything I have written for this fic thus far, INCLUDING deleted scenes in which the story tried to run off the rails and people (usually Kurt) paid the price. There's one lovely scene with Jacob ben Israel that will never show up in this fic, for example. The only way you'll get to see it is if you ID those boots!

Glee still is not mine. If it were, I would give Chris Colfer a hug. Congratulations on the Emmy nomination, Chris! You deserve it!

.

* * *

**How Things Work**

_Settling In_

* * *

.

.

"Kurt, I saw him in physics. No _way _would a guy like that flirt with you."

"Ah!" Kurt pressed his hand to his chest, looking offended at Mercedes. "Mercy, Mercy! I'm not _that_ bad..."

Mercedes grinned, tugging Kurt's hand away. "You know what I mean. He's way out of our league. Things can't be so different in New York that he doesn't know how things work. Jocks don't date Glee kids."

"Ah," Kurt said, holding up a finger (though his hand was still in Mercedes' grasp). "But I'm a cheerleader, too. Jocks date cheerleaders."

"Gorgeous sun-god jocks?" Kurt had told Mercedes about his Apollo reference, and she seemed to enjoy it. She actually _got _it.

"Mercedes, in all seriousness, he _was _flirting," Kurt protested. "I might not be the most experienced recipient at this school, but that smile and wink? _Wink_, Mercedes!"

"Sweetheart, I'm happy to see you're getting over Finn," Mercedes said, linking her arm through Kurt's and rubbing his hand as they started toward their shared history class, "but I don't want to see you get your heart crushed by another jock."

Kurt just shook his head a little, bumping Mercedes' hip with his own as they walked. "I know. And I don't have a crush on him! I just think it's wonderfully refreshing to not be the only guy around here unafraid of the word 'faggot.'"

"Hey! Kurt, right?"

Mercedes and Kurt both looked up at the blond in front of them. Now it was Mercedes' turn to gape as Kurt recovered swiftly and nodded. "Yes, that's right... Samuel."

"Sam, please," Sam said, grinning at the smaller boy. "Samuel means I'm in trouble."

"Sam," Kurt repeated, rolling the short name in his mouth. "How can I help you?"

"I heard you were good at Spanish," Sam said. "I'm kinda in between classes here. Too advanced for second-year, but there are some things Schuester talked about that went completely over my head in third-year. He suggested you might be able to help me catch up..."

Kurt squeezed Mercedes' arm against his side and beamed up at the jock. "I'd be happy to help you with Spanish. The Cheerios usually practice the same time as the football team, so... aside from Thursdays after school, I'm probably free whenever you are."

"Great!" Sam held out his hand. "Here, lemme give you my number..."

Kurt fished out his phone and offered it up to the jock, who quickly sent himself a text and passed it back to Kurt. "Sometime this week, maybe? Before I get too far behind?" Kurt just nodded, holding his phone in his free hand, Mercedes on his other arm. "Can't wait!" Sam's hand clapped down on Kurt's shoulder again before the jock headed off down the hall, and Kurt turned to look at Mercedes with wide eyes.

"Daaaamn, boy!" Mercedes hissed, watching Sam go. "You're gonna have a _date_!"

"Oh god," Kurt lifted his hand (still holding his phone) to his temple. "Dad's going to go _mental._"

_That chick your gf?_

The text came during History, and Kurt nudged Mercedes and slid his phone toward her so she could read. She covered a grin as Kurt texted back _Nope bff._

_You got a gf?_

_No_

_Just checking_

Mercedes dissolved into giggles for the rest of the period, and Kurt sat primly beside her as if nothing were wrong (aside from the blush coating his cheeks).

.

* * *

.

School was only in session for a half day on the first day, so Kurt climbed into Finn's truck around noon for the ride home. "Hey, Finn?" He had pulled his phone out again, reading his messages.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really not like Sa—White?"

Finn glanced over at Kurt with a frown furrowing his brow. "He's okay, I guess. Now that he's stopped trying to take my place. Why?"

"He asked me for Spanish help today," Kurt said, looking over at Finn.

"He asked _you_?"

"Hey!" Kurt elbowed Finn. "_Your _grades have improved since I started helping you last year. And apparently Mr. Schu gave him my name, so..." He shrugged. "I figured I should ask before just inviting him over. I mean, you're tactful enough to keep Rachel out of our room..."

"I don't know why you don't like her," Finn said.

"She's crazy," Kurt retorted. "And it's not that I don't like her. I do like her. A bit. She's talented, and she usually has the Glee club's best interests at heart. But she is completely loco and totally grating. And her style is just..." He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Do you really like the short-skirt and knee-highs look?"

"Well... uh..." Finn gave a shrug. "Whatever looks nice."

Kurt rolled his eyes, settling back in his seat. "That look is _so _1990s. And don't get me started on her animal sweaters..."

"Animals are cute!" Finn protested. "Like she is."

"You know," Kurt remarked, "there are times I'm glad you're not interested in me. This is one of them."

.

* * *

.

It wasn't easy being the new kid in town, but, as Sam had learned, being athletic and good looking were working wonders in his favor, as always (his parents moved around a lot. Business, they claimed. Sam suspected something illegal). Sporting a letter jacket from his NYC school was actually helping him here as well. Most of the kids here were treating him like some sort of minor celebrity. He snorted to himself as he started pulling off his football gear. Lima was such a backwards, podunk little town. Still, it was only for a couple quick years, and then he'd be off to college and out of here.

Two sets of beefy hands clapped down on Sam's shoulders, shoving him into the lockers. _Ow. _Maybe those years wouldn't pass so fast.

"What's up, faggot?"

"How's it going, you little homo?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shoved back, knocking Azimio and his friend Donahue's hands off of him. "Oh please. Don't tell me you're still doing that whole "'fraid of gay" thing around here."

"Huh?" Donahue looked confused, but Azimio was looking angry. Sam just shook his head and folded his arms.

"Let me guess. This is the time where you say "we saw you with that gay kid yesterday" and I say "it wasn't what you think," and you shove me around a bit to "teach me how things are done around here." I leave the gay boy alone, and you two go back to swaggering around, secure in your macho pride. Correct?"

The other jocks stared at each other, clearly unused to their prey fighting back. Sam just shook his head and slung his arms around their shoulders. "I'm not gay," he told the pair. "But I _am _gonna tap that."

"Ugh!" Azimio shoved Sam's arm off his shoulders. "Dude, that _totally _makes you gay!"

"No," Sam says. "That totally means I'm going to get laid more than you. Come on. Let me show you."

Azimio and Donahue reluctantly followed Sam as he lead them out of the locker rooms and back to the field where the Cheerios had taken over. The majority of them were running through a routine, but Kurt was standing off to the side, stretching.

"Look at his mouth," Sam said, nodding. "Cut him off at neck and nose, and just look at his mouth." Azimio and Donahue shifted uncomfortably, but they did glance over at Kurt. The boy had a great mouth, not too wide, not too thin, and usually, Sam had noticed, curling into some sort of smile around him. "If that mouth were on a chick, you _know _you'd want it stretched around your dick. And those eyes. Nothing hotter than a pair of desperate blue eyes as you're getting your rocks off." Sam nodded, letting his eyes rove over the oblivious cheerleader. Just then, Kurt dropped himself into a set of splits and leaned forward over one leg, stretching his arms toward his foot. Sam's eyebrows rose. "And he's a cheerleader," he said. "Flexible. _Very _flexible."

"Dude, he's still a dude," Azimio protested, shaking his head.

"And that," Sam said, "is why it all works! Come on. How often to the chicks around here let you bone them, hmm? You have a _Chastity Club_, for fuck's sake, and most of the cheerlead—Cheerios are on it! Azimio." He smacked the shorter football player in the chest with the back of his hand. "How many times you got your dick sucked last year?"

Azimio shifted a little, then said: "'Bout three times."

Sam nodded. "I bag Hummel, and I'll get it sucked three times in a month. _More _than three times. Do you know why?"

"Cause you're _gay._"

"Cause he's a _guy_," Sam said. "No fussing with condoms or getting anyone knocked up—didn't your head Cheerio have a baby last year? He'll be gagging for it more frequently than any chick, and as long as I don't suck his dick, it's not gay."

Azimio didn't look convinced. "What about sex? Two dicks, no pussy, that's _definitely _gay."

"Sex is even easier!" Sam laughed. "Get him on his hands and knees, and he'll look just like a short-haired chick from behind. Short-haired chick letting you take her up the ass. Don't even have to touch his dick—do it right, and he'll take care of that himself. How many of your squeezes ever let you fuck her ass?"

Azimio and Donahue glanced at each other again, the confusion evident in their eyes. Sam just sighed and clapped them on the shoulders again. "Look. How about this. We each try to bag a Cheerio. I get Hummel, you two go after chicks. We'll see who gets sex faster and more often, yeah? And if the two of you _together_ are getting off more with your chicks than I am with my one dude, you can call me a faggot and do whatever hazing it is you do around here, all right?" The confusion was still flickering in the others' faces, so Sam rolled his eyes. "You can beat me up. Him too."

Comprehension dawned, and the boys grinned and punched each other in the shoulders. Sam just rolled his eyes again and started back toward the locker rooms. "Better get cracking on your girls, though! Hummel's already invited me over to his place..."


	4. Glee Club

I needed some help with this story, and the wonderful Lezi rose to the challenge and won the reward of an extra chapter for everyone. There will still be a Thursday update, so enjoy your bonus!

Still don't own them.

* * *

**How Things Work**

_Glee Club_

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"Hey guys! It's great to have you all back here! Nobody got cold feet over the summer, I see!"

Kurt had to smile at Mr. Schu's exuberance as he slid into his old seat beside Mercedes. It _was _great to be back in the choir room, the Glee club reunited after a long summer. "Five minutes," he murmured to Mercedes, leaning over so his head was close.

"For what?" Mercedes asked.

"Until half the room wants to kill Rachel." Kurt smirked. "Twenty bucks?"

"I say four," Mercedes whispered back.

Santana's foot struck out, kicking Kurt's chair leg. Kurt twisted around to frown at her, but Santana just muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "My money's on eight."

Kurt snickered and nodded, twisting back to the front of the room. The show was beginning, after all.

"Mr. Schuester, I just wanted to say that it's _wonderful _to be back!" Rachel had bounced to her feet, clasping her hands together. After addressing the teacher, she turned to the rest of the club, her face lit up in one of her 'I have billions of brilliant ideas you should just beg me to share!' smiles. "And now that summer is over, it really _is _time for us to get cracking! We absolutely _must _place at Regionals this year, because we aren't likely to get a second chance for a second chance! I've been studying all of Vocal Adreneline's routines, and I really think-"

"That's great, Rachel," Mr. Schu said, stepping up and putting his hand on her shoulder. "But not _quite _yet. Hear me out first?"

Rachel glanced back at Mr. Schu before giving a reluctant nod, dropping back into her seat and sliding her arms around one of Finn's. Santana smirked behind Kurt, settling back in her chair.

"As Rachel said, we do need to crank it up this year. We _did _give a ten at Regionals. Trouble was, Vocal Adreneline gave a twelve."

"Cheaters," Quinn said teasingly, shaking her head.

Mr. Schu grinned at her, clapping his hands together. "This year, we're going to need to give a fifteen. But we can do it! However." He parted his hands, gesturing to the gathered students. "We can't just leap from summer lassitude to high-amp performances. How many of you really kept up the same rigorous schedule we had during the year?"

Rachel's hand flew into the air. Brittany's did too, but Kurt wasn't entirely sure if she knew what Mr. Schu meant.

"Exactly," Mr. Schu said. "So we'll start small. This week, your assignment is one you've done almost every year of your school career thus far. What I did on my summer vacation. One song to wrap up your summer, one performance. You can partner up if you'd like, heck, you can all do one song together if that's what you want. Be creative and have fun. This is all about reconnecting with your music on a disciplined level. A warm-up before we tear into the real work, okay?"

Rachel couldn't contain herself anymore and leapt to her feet again. "This is _perfect_!" she exclaimed, spreading her hands. "We can do a medley of summer songs! I'm thinking we include Vacation, Summertime, Summer of 69..."

"Pay up, Hummel," Santana murmured into Kurt's ear. He laughed, running his fingers over her waiting palm.

"After," he murmured back before stretching a hand up and raising his voice. "_I _have an idea. Finn, want to partner up? I must warn you now, it's horribly cheesy..."

"Uh..." Finn looked between Kurt and Rachel, and Kurt gave a shrug.

"Sorry, Rachel, but we didn't spend the summer together. It just doesn't make much sense to sing about our summer together."

Rachel gave a huff, crossing her arms, but Kurt simply raised an eyebrow, unrepentant. Mercedes nudged him. "You gonna share your idea?"

"Not yet," Kurt said. "It's going to be a surprise. You could join in if you want, probably, Mercedes. In fact, it would work better with you. And Quinn. The four of us. What do you say, Finn?"

"Go ahead," Rachel said with a dramatic sigh. "Join them. See if I care."

"Really?" Finn's grin was relieved. "Cool! Thanks, Rachel."

Kurt just smirked. Really, Rachel should have learned by now that Finn took words at face value more often than not.

.

* * *

.

"So?" Mercedes asked after rehearsals, after they had both paid up to Santana (If Mr. Schu hadn't given his own little speech, Kurt so would have won). "What's the cheesy song?"

Kurt smiled. "_We Are Family._"

"And how does that fit our summer vacations?" Quinn asked with a little shake of her head, looking skeptical. Finn nodded along, his brow furrowed again.

"Simple," Kurt said. "_We_," he gestured between Finn and himself, "are family now. And you two are family now. And that's really what we did this summer—unless you went off on some fun vacation to Milan or something without telling me—we became families."

Mercedes snerked. "Kurt, you _sap_!"

Kurt just shrugged and rolled his eyes upward. "If you'd rather join Rachel..."

"Uh... she _is _my girlfriend..." Finn shifted awkwardly. "But I like your idea."

"Just because you're dating doesn't mean you have to do _everything _with her," Quinn said, offering her ex-boyfriend a little smile. "Trust me. That's just an act girls put on to control their men. It's okay to break away every now and then."

"Excellent," Kurt said, clapping his hands. "Mercedes, you diva, you think you can be the lead?"

"Honey, you _know _I can!"

"Quinn, choreography?" Quinn gave a nod and a salute. "And I'll do the costumes."

"What about me?" Finn asked.

"You'll sing a male lead," Kurt said. "As much as it pains me to say it, you harmonize better with Mercedes than I do..."

"Sounds fair," Finn said, a grin growing on his face. "Sounds great, actually."

"It'll be fabulous. We can meet up... when's everybody free?"

"I'm busy this weekend," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"Tuesdays are football practice," Finn said.

"And Cheerios," Kurt agreed.

"Tomorrow?" Mercedes suggested, but Kurt was already shaking his head.

"That's when I'm helping Sam."

"Helping, huh? Is that what we're calling it these days?"

Kurt colored a little and elbowed Mercedes. "Oh, shut up! It's just homework!"

"Too defensive," Quinn teased. "You want something more..."

"I can't help it if I have a pulse," Kurt sniffed. "And Sam is _gorgeous..._"

"Er... how about Monday?" Finn was looking rather awkward now, and Kurt reigned himself in.

"Monday's good for me."

"Me too."

Quinn nodded. "Monday it is, then!"


	5. Study Dates

Lezi is truly, truly awesome and has earned everyone a bonus chapter!

As before, unless I can be persuaded to do a Monday update, Chapter 6 will go live on Thursday.

As for the boots... many, many people have offered me hints and suggestions and said they were helping. Unfortunately, I haven't found the ones I was looking for. I've decided, though, that the closest I can come are either Mark Nason (h t t p : / / t i n y . c c / v 2 3 6 5) or Banana Blues (h t t p : / / t i n y . c c / h i j w l) boots. An anonymous reviewer tipped me off to Mark Nason, and Chris Colfer himself mentioned Banana Blues in an interview If either of you want to get in touch with me for the full story, feel free (Chris, I also have a hug for you, because you're awesome). Otherwise, if you've tried to help at all, let me know in reply to THIS chapter, Chapter Five, and I'll put you on the list for a consolation prize. I'm going to write something else, I don't know what yet, either a ficlet or a scene or a one-shot, and I won't post it until I'm done posting How Things Work. If you helped, though, I'll send it to you as soon as I finish.

Thanks for all your help and all your reviews!

.

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* * *

How Things Work**

_Study Dates

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"You sure you're gonna be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine, Dad." Kurt glanced in the hall mirror, brushing his fingers over his bangs to make sure they were perfect for the sixteenth time that evening. "You guys enjoy the race." A grateful customer had given the Hudson-Hummels tickets to a local car race, but Kurt had no interest in going. He loved cars, but would rather be driving them himself than watching them go around in circles. Carole had invited a friend to go along with her for the fourth ticket.

Burt shifted, settling his cap on his head. "You've got a friend coming over, right?"

"Just to study," Kurt said, turning back to his dad with a nod. "Spanish. We won't destroy the house, I promise."

"I never worry about that with you," Burt said. "You spend too much time keeping this place spotless to destroy it."

"Heh..." Kurt gave a sheepish grin, setting his head to the side and shrugging one shoulder. "I like order, that's all."

"Kurt..." Burt tugged his cap off again, smoothing his hand over his head. "You're not... it's a boy, right?"

"Yes." Kurt _wished _he could control his blush, sure his cheeks were a little pink as his dad scrutinized him. "Sam White. Finn's told you about him..."

"I thought you guys didn't like this White kid," Burt said slowly, frowning a little.

"He's not as bad as Finn made him out to be," Kurt said, checking his appearance in the mirror again. "Really, Finn was just upset over his spot on the team being challenged. He's cool with Sam now."

Burt ran his hand down his face and set his hat back on his head. "Kurt... you be careful, okay?" He stepped up behind his son, resting his hands on Kurt's slim shoulders and meeting his surprised gaze in the mirror. "If this boy hurts you, I'll..."

"Dad!" Kurt's face _did _explode in a scarlet blush now, and he shook his head emphatically, reaching up to cover his dad's hands with his own. "It's not like that! Really! It's _just _Spanish help..."

"Hmph." Burt squeezed Kurt's shoulders. "Spanish doesn't usually set you to fixing your hair every ten seconds."

Kurt closed his eyes, bowing his head, a little smile on his mouth. "I'll be okay, Dad. I'm a big boy. You can trust me."

"I know." Burt was silent for a few heartbeats, then let out a deep breath. "It's just him I don't trust."

Kurt sighed, rolling his head to the side to look up at his dad. "Dad, nothing's going to happen. Nothing's _ever _going to happen, not while I'm in high school. I'm a loser, bottom of the heap. You have nothing to worry about with me and boys." He smirked a little. "Until I go to college."

Burt made a distressed noise in the back of his throat, eliciting a bigger smirk from Kurt, but Finn and Carole came into the foyer just then. "We ready to go? Kurt, you'll be okay?"

"I'll be _fine_," Kurt said, reassuring Carole as he stepped away from the mirror. "You three have fun."

"We'll be back by nine," Burt said, adjusting his hat again, then pointed at Kurt. "Your boy stays no later than that."

"Daaad!"

"No... no doing anything on my bed," Finn said, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Keep that all to your bed, yeah?" He was smiling a little. The expression seemed a touch awkward, but Kurt knew he was trying to be teasing.

"We're just doing Spanish!" Kurt protested for the fiftieth time that night.

"At least it's not French," Carole said, laying her hand on Burt's arm and giving Kurt a wink. "Come on, boys. Let's leave Kurt to enjoy his date."

"It's not a date!"

Finally, _finally_, all the others were out the door and Kurt felt it was safe to collapse on his couch. _Its not a date _he texted to Mercedes, grinning at her response.

_Whatever you say ;) Good luck!_

Kurt shook his head, tucking his phone away. A knock on the door had him leaping to his feet, but he forced himself to stop in front of the mirror one final time before pulling the door open, fully composed. "Hello, Sam." He offered the taller boy a smile as he stepped aside, inviting him in. "Can I take your jacket?"

"Sure, thanks." Sam gave Kurt a warm smile as he shrugged off his jacket and offered it to the smaller boy. Kurt pulled a closet open and hung it up, using the moment when his back was turned to bite his lip and give in to the stupid grin trying to fight its way out. It _wasn't _a date, but that didn't mean Kurt couldn't enjoy himself!

When he turned back to Sam, his expression was pleasant and composed again. "So. My room's probably the best place to study... unless you wanted something to eat first, or... or a tour or something..."

Sam grinned. "How about a tour? You've got a really nice house..."

"Thank you." Kurt hesitated a moment, then beckoned Sam to follow him upstairs, showing him around.

The tour ended in the basement, and Sam dropped his bag on Kurt's couch. "So... I thought you lived with Hudson."

"I do," Kurt said, gesturing to the second bed. "We're sharing until the addition out back is finished. Shouldn't be much longer."

"That makes this your bed?" Sam crossed the room and flopped down on Kurt's bed, sprawled easily across Kurt's pillows. "Comfy."

"As if I'd settle for anything less," Kurt said with just a hint of a nervous laugh. He'd _never _had another guy on his bed before. Even Finn always avoided it (and Burt didn't count).

Sam grinned again and patted the bed beside him. Kurt hesitated a moment before coming over and sitting beside him, his prim posture a stark contrast to Sam's relaxed lounge. "So. Where's the rest of your family?"

"We got tickets to a race," Kurt said with a shrug. "I don't like watching races."

"So we're alone?" Sam sat up, raising his eyebrows. "Just you and me?" Sitting upright, his face was suddenly quite close to Kurt's. The smaller boy's breath caught in his throat for a moment, eyes widening (and _dammit_, but he couldn't resist looking at Sam's mouth, just inches away!).

"Until nine," he breathed. "Or thereabouts. Sam..."

Sam leaned in just a little closer, watching as Kurt's eyes fluttered, and he grinned. "Spanish," he murmured. "I really do need to catch up. Let's see how good a teacher you really are, Mr. Hummel..." He got up and headed over to his bag, digging out his Spanish book.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, willing all his fluttering nerves to leave with the exhale. _Just like a performance_, he thought desperately to himself. _Bury the drama; just shine._ He lifted his chin a fraction of an inch, opening his eyes, letting his 'I'm in control' expression slide over his face. "Of course," he said smoothly, twisting around on the bed and sliding to his feet. "Chapter one is all review, so we'll go through that to find out where your problem areas are."

Sam sat on the couch and smiled at Kurt. "Here, we can share the book. You already know all this anyway..."

Kurt nodded, sitting beside Sam, careful to not touch the other boy out of habit. Even guys who said they were okay with his sexuality didn't usually like Kurt initiating contact with them.

Sam, however, seemed to have no such qualms, leaning in close to Kurt, sliding the book half onto Kurt's lap, their legs touching from thigh to knee. "I can tell you right now, I'm completely lost on the preterite and imperfect forms..."

.

* * *

.

"_Bueno_," Kurt said, several hours later, smiling up at Sam. "I think you've got it." At some point, Sam's arm had slid around Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt was now firmly tucked up against Sam's side, their feet tangled together. _This is _so_ a date..._

"I dunno," Sam said, shaking his head a little. "I'm still shaky on the tenses..."

"Everyone is," Kurt said, closing the Spanish book. "Mr. Schu'll give us a whole day on the past tenses, and he'll review it every time he talks about them. Don't worry. There really wasn't all that much that you needed help with after all. You probably could have figured it out just fine without me."

"But that wouldn't have been as much fun." Sam grinned at Kurt. "What time is it?"

Kurt checked his watch. "Er... just about eight-thirty," he said, turning to look back up at Sam only to find the blond leaning in closer.

"Perfect," he said. "Half an hour before your family gets home."

"_Yes..._" Kurt had to close his eyes as Sam leaned down, brushing their lips together.

"You don't have a boyfriend already, do you?" Sam asked, his lips moving against Kurt's. Kurt could only shake his head mutely, not daring to open his eyes. "Perfect," Sam repeated, sliding his other arm around Kurt's waist and pressing their lips together in another kiss.

Kurt made an embarrassing little noise in his throat, his fingers curled tight enough around the Spanish book in his lap to dig the cover into his skin. He was falling, drowning, completely lost in Sam's mouth on his, Sam's strong arms around him, Sam's leg pressed against his own. What was he supposed to do with his hands? Sam stroked his fingers over the small of Kurt's back, drawing his other hand up to cup the side of his face, thumb stroking along his jaw. Kurt gasped, his lips parting, and Sam seized the opportunity to flick his tongue out, tasting Kurt's mouth.

Slowly, Kurt unclenched his fingers and pushed the Spanish book away, twisting on the couch to face Sam fully. He hesitantly brought his hands up, not daring to break the kiss, trembling slightly as Sam's tongue delved further into his mouth. He crept his hands up Sam's chest before looping them around the bigger teen's neck, pressing up into the kiss. Sam chuckled against Kurt's lips, leaning forward and lowering him to the couch.

Kurt groaned as Sam lowered his own body over his, twisting his hips awkwardly to try to keep Sam from realizing the effect he was having on certain parts of Kurt's anatomy. Sam was having none of that, though, pressing Kurt's hips down firmly with his own, grinning as Kurt gave a full-body shudder.

"Don't tell me," Sam murmured, finally breaking his mouth away from Kurt's only to fasten it on the smooth skin of his jaw, "you've never done this before? Cute guy like you?"

"People aren't exactly," Kurt's breath hitched as Sam tugged his shirt loose, letting his fingers slide up to stroke over Kurt's belly, "lining up to be gay in Lima..."

Sam huffed, nipping at the edge of Kurt's jaw, right below his ear. "They don't know what they're missing, then."

Kurt's head shake was constrained, not trying to dislodge Sam. "I..." He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could before opening them, shifting to get his hands between their bodies, pressed flat against Sam's chest. "Wait, wait, stop..."

"Huh?" Sam lifted himself up enough so he could look down at Kurt, tracing one finger around Kurt's navel. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Kurt was breathing heavily as he looked up at the jock, his Apollo. "I have to tell you something..." Oh _why _did he always have to sabotage himself!

"Tell me what?" Sam asked, leaning forward a little, sliding his leg across the bulge in Kurt's tight jeans.

"I'm a Gleek," Kurt whispered.

Sam stilled, frowning down at Kurt. "A what? Is that contagious?"

Kurt gave a slightly-hysterical little laugh, shaking his head. "No, no, a _Gleek._ Glee geek. I'm... at school, I'm not really counted as a Cheerio. I'm a member of Glee Club, the show choir, first and foremost, the lowest of the low, and if you..." He trailed off, fumbling for words, then simply gave a little gesture at their bodies pressed together. "If you _do _anything with me, you'll be lumped in there too. I suppose it is a bit contagious. But you won't be able to do _anything _at school without being mocked, ridiculed, bullied... Just look at Finn, or Puck, or Mike Chang or Matt Rutherford. They're all Gleeks. You're new, but you still must have seen some of the harassment..."

Sam was quiet, thinking. "Is that why everyone called Hudson a fag and wanted me to be the QB?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, deflating beneath Sam. He let his eyes close and turned his face to the side. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about this lapse..."

"Do you _want _me to stop?"

Kurt gave a bitter laugh. "What _I _want doesn't matter. _Your _reputation's on the line."

"Kurt." Sam's voice was low and quiet and there was a husky rasp to it that made Kurt shiver deliciously beneath him, Sam's weight still pressing down on his thighs. "_Kurt_," Sam repeated, leaning down again, pressing their chests together. "What did I tell you when we first met?" He bit the point of Kurt's chin gently, tugging Kurt's shirt up. "I pick who I want to hang out with myself." Kurt sucked in another breath as Sam rested his hands flat against Kurt's now-bare chest, his lips skimming the smaller boy's. "_Reputation be damned..._"

Kurt moaned and surged up, clutching Sam's face between his hands as he kissed the jock, pressing their mouths together hungrily. He was shaking beneath Sam's hands, feeling wholly irrational tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't care. For once in his life, the universe wasn't going to allow Kurt Hummel to fuck up his own life, and Kurt was eager to seize this opportunity.

Until the sound of feet thumping inside made his eyes snap open, and a pounding on the door made him leap away from Sam with an undignified squeak.

"Kurt!" Burt called through the door. "We're home!"

"Damn," Sam said, though he offered Kurt a grin and reached out to smooth his hair down. "Cockblocked."

"Heh..." Kurt gave Sam a shaky smile back, tugging his shirt into place and praying Finn didn't come downstairs just yet. "Dad... wanted me to kick you out when they got back."

"Oh did he?" Sam leered, leaning in close to Kurt, who simply blushed harder. "Are you going to?"

"It's probably for the best," Kurt murmured, dropping his gaze. "I mean... it is getting late..."

"Does he know you're queer?" Sam asked, cocking his head to the side.

Kurt laughed. "Does anyone actually think I'm _not_? Yes. He does. I came out to him last year, officially, but he's known forever. What about you?"

"My parents are cool with it," Sam said with a shrug. "They don't care what I do, so long as I don't get anyone knocked up or killed."

"How... charming," Kurt said, rising from the couch to find a bulky sweater he could throw on to hide the wrinkles in his shirt and the bulge in his jeans. "Um... we should probably go upstairs."

"Lead the way," Sam said, making a sweeping gesture with his hands.

Kurt smiled and started for the stairs, but Sam reached out and caught his hand before he could open the door. He cupped Kurt's face and leaned down to catch his lips in another kiss, his arm around Kurt's waist keeping him upright. "I'll see you at school on Monday," he murmured.

"Yeah," Kurt sighed. "Yeah, Monday..." He smiled at Sam and pushed the door open.

Burt glanced over at the boys as they emerged from the basement, studying first Sam's flushed and tousled appearance and then sliding over to Kurt. He frowned a little at the sweater, but Kurt was already hastily bundling Sam toward the door. He fetched Sam's jacket from the closet and helped the jock into it, giving another squeak as Sam caught him in a hug. "Monday," he murmured into Kurt's ear.

"Can't wait," Kurt whispered back. He stood at the door, watching as Sam got into his car, and didn't even hear his father coming up behind him.

"So. Just Spanish, huh?"

"Dad!" Kurt jumped and turned quickly, looking guiltily up at his father. "Uh... yeah. Just Spanish. He was having some trouble with the tenses, and por versus para, and..."

Burt's mouth gave a twitch and he looked pointedly at Kurt's chin. "Not a date?"

Kurt squirmed, resisting the urge to reach up and cover whatever his dad was looking at. Sam had bit him there, but it wasn't hard enough to leave a mark, was it? "Uh... maybe... maybe just a little bit of a date..."

Burt gave a heavy sigh that seemed to go on forever. Kurt pressed his lips together and his back against the door, watching as his dad massaged his forehead. "So... you have a boyfriend now?"

"It..." Kurt glanced at the sidelight, but Sam was long gone. A little smile still played over his face. "It would seem that way, yes..."

Burt just shook his head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _I'm not ready for this. _"I want to meet him soon," he said, dropping his hand and looking at Kurt. "And I meant what I said earlier. He hurts you, and I will take a flamethrower to that son of a bitch."

Kurt blushed again, but he nodded. Burt sighed and then gestured toward the kitchen. "Well, come on. We picked up ice cream on the way home, got you that frozen yoghurt stuff you prefer."

"How was your not-date?" Carole asked as the Hummels entered the kitchen. Her eyes widened as she looked Kurt over, and he ducked his head, reaching up to rub his chin self-consciously. "Kurt, sweetie, usually one takes _off _clothes for dates, not puts on more..."

Finn looked up from the ice cream he was scooping, his brow furrowed in a way that Kurt privately found adorable. Kurt just shrugged and blushed. "Yes, well... I had a change of wardrobe attack after you left..."

"It was a date," Burt grumbled, dropping onto a stool beside Carole. "I called it..."

"I don't think it should count as a date," Kurt protested, shifting awkwardly as Finn scrutinized him. "He didn't buy me dinner."

"Well!" Carole shook her head and tsked. "That boy'd better take you out on a _proper _date next time!"

Kurt could only laugh a little as he joined Carole and his dad on the stools. He felt like he was floating higher than the clouds right now. Sam had _kissed_ him. He had a _boyfriend._


	6. Hookups

This fic is now completed! There will be a grand total of 26 chapters plus one deleted scene (and minimal smut-sorry guys, but the plot overpowered the sex). I'll be posting one chapter every three days, so chapter 7 will show up on Thursday, 8 on Sunday, 9 on Wednesday, and so on until all 27 are posted.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been helpful and supportive while I wrote this. Guinea pigs, you know who you are!

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**

* * *

**

**How Things Work**

_Hook-ups_

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_._

_MERCEDES_

The text was all caps, sent as Kurt collapsed backwards onto his bed and gave in to the urge to giggle like a little girl. Mercedes' response came a few moments later, buzzing his phone.

_Date over?_ _That a good scream or a bad 1? _followed shortly by _Qs here so warn if u want me to not show her_

Kurt just rolled over on his bed, texting as fast as he could, not caring that Quinn was reading over Mercedes' shoulder. _The BEST. He WAS flirting!_

_DETAILS boy!_

_Spanish followed by making out. _Kurt wriggled again, glancing up as Finn came down the stairs but returning to his phone. _2nd base._

"You didn't... uh..." Finn was standing awkwardly by his bed, hands in his pockets, looking around. "Er... fuck or anything, did you?"

"Of course not," Kurt said, looking up again. "Not on a first date. And we didn't touch your bed at all."

_DETAILS!_

"Right," Finn said. "Just checking, you know. Cause I've never seen you smile that big before..."

Kurt just laughed as he replied to Mercedes. _Details in person. Too much to type. _"Finn, I have a _boyfriend_. Why _wouldn't _I be smiling?"

_Q wants 2 hear 2!_

"So... uh..." Finn tugged his hands free and sat down on his own bed, arms draped over his knees. "Does this mean you're not crushing on me anymore?"

_If shes there._ Kurt's smile dimmed a few notches as he tapped his phone against the underside of his chin. "I... guess not. I mean, I haven't really been crushing on you for a while now, to be honest." He flicked his eyes toward Finn, not lifting his head. "But you will always be gorgeous."

"I'm not gay," Finn said quickly.

Kurt gave him a thin smile. "I know. Believe me, I am _very _aware of that." He sighed, rolling over and sitting up to look at Finn. "That doesn't mean I can't appreciate that I..." He hesitated a moment, then gave a nod and smiled. "Have the hottest brother at McKinley High."

Finn smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "That sounds wrong," he said. "But... thanks?"

"Incest is so not my thing," Kurt replied. "You're welcome. Did you want the bathroom before bed? Because I was planning on a very long shower..."

.

* * *

.

"All weekend, I've had to put up with your tantalizing texts!" Mercedes cried, grabbing Kurt by the arm on Monday morning and slamming him (very gently) against his locker. "You _cannot _keep me hanging any longer!"

"You have no idea how disappointing it is to keep hearing 'no, he hasn't told me anything new,' every time you try to ask for the gossip," Quinn said, taking Kurt's other arm. "So now we've both cornered you."

"And I get to watch some hot girl-on-girl-on-gay action." Puck had been trailing behind Quinn and was now smirking at Kurt. "Though I could do without the gay. 'Sup, Hummel. What's this all about?"

"Mercedes seems to think I had an interesting weekend," Kurt said, offering Puck a smirk of his own. He still wasn't _completely _comfortable with the re-mohawked jock, but Puck and Finn had patched together their friendship over the summer and Kurt was starting to get used to being around him outside of Glee and not backing away from a dumpster or dodging a slushie.

"You. Sam. Second base. Spill!" Mercedes gave Kurt's arm another tug, and Puck made a face.

"Ugh, gag me! This is about gay-on-gay action? No thanks!" Still grimacing (but in a teasing way), Puck leaned his shoulder against the lockers, watching the girls on either side of Kurt.

"Oh, shut up," Quinn said, linking her arm through Kurt's. "Well? Was he any good?"

"Blew Brittany _completely _out of the water," Kurt replied, looking between the girls with a big smile that was by now all too familiar (and still horribly out of place on his face).

"Blew, as in, literally?" Mercedes raised an eyebrow at Kurt.

He quickly shook his head, laughing. "No, no, not like _that_... We just... kissed. And he's very aware that dating me is the worst kind of social suicide, but he's willing to give it a shot. That's what he said, at least." Kurt shrugged one shoulder, his smile fading away. "Guess we'll see how long _that _lasts..."

"Oh, Kurt, you know you're worth the best," Mercedes said, squeezing Kurt's elbow.

"And speaking of the devil," Quinn murmured, releasing Kurt's arm and taking a step back. Kurt followed her gaze to Sam himself. The blond jock was approaching them with a smile.

"Hey there, Kurt."

"Hi..." Kurt squeezed his arm against his side, trapping Mercedes in place so she couldn't pull away from him too.

"I just wanted to thank you for all your help on Friday." Sam looked at the girls, glanced briefly at Puck, then held his hand out to the smaller boy.

"Oh, uh... no problem," Kurt said, taking Sam's hand after a moment. "Glad I could be of help..." So that was it, then. It really was just a one-night thing, with one wonderful weekend of dreams...

Mercedes and Quinn gasped in stereo as Sam lifted Kurt's hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over Kurt's knuckles. "I thought I should thank you properly. You like ice cream?"

"I love ice cream," Kurt said breathily, his eyes wide, elbowing Mercedes before she could point out that he didn't eat ice cream at all if he could help it.

"After school, then?" Sam asked, not lifting his mouth far from Kurt's hand, his eyes meeting Kurt's. "I'll take you out, maybe to my place after...?"

"That sounds perfect..." Kurt felt like he had been punched in the gut, but in a good way. All the lightheadedness of being unable to breathe, but with none of the pain.

"Great!" Sam squeezed Kurt's fingers before letting his hand go. "I'll meet you here after class."

"After class..." Kurt repeated, lowering his hand so very slowly as Sam winked at him and turned, heading off down the corridor.

Puck chose that moment to let out a snort of laughter. "Hummel, you look like a cow with that stupid grin on your face."

"Shut up, Puck!" Mercedes snapped her fingers at the jock. "You're ruining a perfectly romantic moment here!"

Quinn heaved a heavy sigh, leaning her head against Kurt's. "Why are all the great ones gay?"

"They aren't," Kurt said, still sounding dazed. "Finn's straight."

"Gay or taken," Quinn clarified.

"I guess I'm just lucky..." Kurt sighed dreamily. "I have a _boyfriend_..."

"Hey!" Puck huffed, crossing his arms. "_I'm _not gay. And I'm certainly not taken!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Mercedes asked, smirking over at Puck.

"I'm a great one," Puck grumbled. "Anyone'd be _lucky _to have a piece of the Puckmeister."

Mercedes and Quinn simply dissolved into giggles around Kurt, who blinked, coming out of his daze enough to look confused.

"Oh, Boo," Mercedes finally said, wrapping an arm around Kurt's back. "You have got it _bad_."

"I do not!"

"Kurt... we were going to practice our Glee routine after school today, remember?" Quinn raised an eyebrow on Kurt's other side. "Not go out for ice cream with cute jocks..."

"Oh... oh crap!" Kurt raised his hand to his head. "I'm so sorry, guys... I'll cancel with Sam." He reached for his phone, but Mercedes and Quinn both reached to stop him.

"You're a good dancer," Quinn said. "I'm sure we can teach you the steps you missed."

"And you're a good singer," Mercedes echoed. "You'll pick up the song. But you'd better make sure those costumes are _perfect _if we let you blow us off!"

"No, no, you guys come first," Kurt insisted, shaking his head. "Sam can..."

Puck, _still _watching the scene unfolding before him, snorted and reached out to ruffle Kurt's hair. "You've got a lot to learn about being a man, dude. Chicks come first. _Always_. If there's a chance to get laid, you grab it." He paused a moment, then nodded. "I'm pretty sure that stands for gay guys too. Only not a chick. And if these two are _telling _you to get hot and heavy with White instead of singing and dancing by your lonesome, then you're an idiot for refusing."

"Don't touch the hair!" Kurt glared lightly at Puck, both hands raised to attempt to salvage his hairstyle. "Who asked for your opinion, anyway?"

Puck just smirked. "I don't need to be asked to tell you the truth. You can thank me now or later. I'll let you decide that."

.

* * *

.

After class, Kurt was leaning up against his locker, sending a text to his dad as he waited for Sam. His stomach was fluttering madly and he was praying none of the other footballers came across him. The last thing he needed was to start an ice cream date with a slushie facial.

_Going out with_ Kurt hesitated, then nodded a little, deciding it was better to be honest with his dad. _Sam. Dont know when ill be home_

He tucked his phone away and shifted from foot to foot, admiring his favorite pair of Mark Nason boots. They were short and black and starting to show their age, one of the very few items in his closet that he kept long enough for the freshness to wear out. Still, they were his favorites for a reason, his go-to shoes whenever he felt like dancing. They made him feel like he was dancing even when he was standing still. His phone buzzed before Sam showed up, and Kurt had to roll his eyes fondly at his dad's reply.

_Be bcak by 7or ill hunt yo udown._

Burt subscribed to the 'if you can understand it, it doesn't have to be perfect' school of thought when it came to texting. Kurt was actually surprised that his dad had even picked up on texting at all, but he was grateful for it. It beat having to explain to his dad over the phone, where anyone could overhear, how he had a last-minute date come up.

_Will do_

He replied more because he knew his dad would worry if Kurt didn't acknowledge his threat than anything else. The last thing Kurt needed was his overprotective father busting down doors at four just because he didn't think Kurt had gotten his message.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Kurt's heart stuttered at the sound of Sam's voice, and he looked up with wide eyes to see the jock smiling fondly at him. At _him_. Calling him _gorgeous_. In the _hall_, of all places.

"Ready to go?"

"You're really taking this 'reputation be damned' thing seriously, aren't you?" Kurt murmured, tucking his phone away again. And here he thought _he _was the ballsy one.

Sam slid his arm around Kurt's shoulders, tugging the smaller boy close. Kurt stiffened instinctively at first (guys only touched him to throw him in the dumpster) but forced himself to relax and smile up at Sam a little. "I've moved around a lot," Sam said, rubbing his thumb across Kurt's shoulder. "I've gotten to reinvent myself a thousand times. And with each reinvention..." He shrugged. "I've grown tired of caving to outdated philosophies. If I want to be openly dating the most fashionable guy at school, everyone else can just go fuck themselves."

Kurt's smile grew, and Sam slid his hand back across Kurt's shoulders and down his arm to grab the other boy's hand, lacing their fingers together. "So. Ready to go?"

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing Sam's fingers between his, before turning to look up at him with a brilliant smile. "_Yes..._"


	7. Ice Cream Dates

This chapter is probably the smuttiest of the entire story. The plot decided to outweigh the porn this time around (and every time around, really).

Also, fudge bars are the least-calorie-intense ice creamish food you can get at Dairy Queen. It's amazing what you research in the name of accurate fanfic...

.

.

* * *

**How Things Work**

_Ice Cream Dates_

* * *

.

Sam had asked around about Kurt Hummel, had learned a lot of things about the boy sitting across from him at Dairy Queen. Most of it had been along the lines of 'he's a faggot with stupid clothes,' but Sam could recognize the hallmarks of high fashion. He had learned Kurt sang like a girl and that his mother died when he was in elementary school (only one girl had remembered that). Cruel and bitchy, surprisingly, had turned up as well, and a fair handful had referred to him as the Ice Queen (a title previously belong to one Quinn Fabray, until she got herself knocked up last year by one of the footballers, either Hudson or Puck. There was some confusion on that account).

But Kurt had also been a victim of dumpster tossing and slushie facials (that one was new to this school. Sam had never had a high school with a slushie machine before), of drive-by balloonings and yard furniture thefts. Sam had seen this show enough times to know how things went. Regardless of Kurt's true colors, the kid was an actor. The bitchy ice queen was how he kept himself safe, but it was also how Sam knew he could guarantee Kurt would be his. Kurt couldn't seem to stop smiling around Sam, everything from bright grins that clashed with the character he was trying to play to shy little smiles while he looked up through lowered lashes. The other boy was clearly enamored by Sam's attention: no one else at that school would have treated him like this before.

Sam laughed at some cynical observation Kurt made, watching the way the boy smiled around the fudge bar he had decided on (so much for loving ice cream). Still, Sam wasn't complaining as he watched those lips close around the cold treat. He nudged one of his shoes off under the table, leaning forward as he pressed his foot against Kurt's ankle. "So, junior year better than sophomore?" he asked, popping a spoonful of ice cream into his own mouth.

"Oh, definitely," Kurt said, the only indication he noticed Sam's foot a slight widening of his eyes. Sam would just have to try harder. "I guess the cheerleading nationals must have helped. I haven't been slushied once yet—knock on wood." He rapped his knuckles on the plastic table.

"I don't know why you even _have _a slushie machine here," Sam said, shaking his head and sliding his foot up Kurt's leg. The smaller boy's pants were far too tight to even attempt getting under them at this point. "I mean, half the slushies must end up on faces and the floor, from what I've seen..."

Kurt shrugged. "It comes down to the money. McKinley's stretched _way _too thin budget-wise—we hear Mr. Schu ranting about this all the time in Glee. The Cheerios have their own boosters, so their budget is ridiculous, but none of that money can go to the school... and the latest millage for school funding failed." He licked up the edge of his fudge bar, raising a suggestive eyebrow at Sam, who grinned back and tapped his foot against Kurt's calf. "Slushies are a dollar a cup, though nobody keeps an eye on the machine to make sure you don't get free refills. It's somewhat reassuring to know that every time we get a slushie to the face, that's another dollar, usually, going toward the school."

"You're joking, right?" Sam asked, shifting so he could get a better angle under the table, now rubbing behind Kurt's knee. Kurt stretched his legs out, opening up to the caress. "You have _that much _school spirit?"

"Of course not," Kurt said with a wry laugh. "We probably don't even get the honor of clean cups. But school fund-raising is the excuse as to why the slushie machine hasn't gone away. Rachel's dads have protested, but no one else seems to care."

"What about your dad?"

Kurt gave a little shake of his head. "He doesn't know how frequent they are. And I'd rather he didn't. What he doesn't know can't hurt him. It's bad enough when the pranks follow me home. He doesn't need to hear the details of what happens at school."

"Poor Kurt," Sam said. "You need some ice cream to make you feel better."

Kurt's eyes flicked to Sam's sundae and he shook his head. "No thank you, I'm fine with my fudge bar..."

Sam grinned, scooping up a spoonful of the melting soft-serve. "Come on, one bite won't kill your ass."

Kurt's lips twitched a little and he glanced around the dining room before giving a little nod and one of those shy smiles, transferring his own treat into his left hand to reach for the spoon.

Sam pulled it back, shaking his head. "Uh-uh. Open up."

Kurt blinked at Sam for a moment, giving another one of those glances around the room, before he leaned forward over the table and opened his mouth, his eyes locked onto Sam's own. Sam pressed the spoon between Kurt's lips, chuckling at the smaller boy sucked the spoon clean with a delicious (and fully intentional, Kurt's eyes told him) "Mmm..."

"You've got something on your..." Sam dropped the spoon back in his bowl and caught Kurt's chin before the other boy could pull back, leaning in to run his tongue over the drip of ice cream on Kurt's bottom lip. He felt Kurt's gasp against his cheek and grinned when he pulled back to see the blush spreading over the other's face. For all his Ice Queen reputation, Kurt was startlingly easy to fluster. "Ready to go?" he asked, their heads still close together.

Even though the ice cream wasn't gone, Kurt nodded quickly. Sam grinned, pulling his foot back and stuffing it in his shoe before standing up. Kurt picked up their trash and threw it out as Sam went to pull the door open.

As soon as Kurt was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, Sam was leaning over the console, one hand gripping the seat above Kurt's left shoulder, pressing their mouths together. Kurt abandoned his attempts to buckle up, instead surging up to return the kiss, his arms wrapping around Sam's shoulders. Sam chuckled into Kurt's mouth, skimming his right hand down Kurt's back and under his butt—Kurt wasn't even sitting on the seat anymore, so eager was he to kiss Sam. Sam squeezed Kurt's ass before drawing back from the kiss, leaving one lingering nip to the smaller boy's lips. "Much as I'd love to continue," he said, "this is really rather awkward." He gestured down to the console digging into his thigh, and Kurt followed his gaze, his eyes wide and dark. He gave a little nod, and Sam dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "My place now? My parents won't be home until five..."

Kurt's eyes flashed up to Sam's face and he licked his lips, tongue lingering over where Sam had nipped him, before nodding again. Sam grinned and sat back in his own seat, buckling up. "Try to keep it in your pants until we get home." He reached over to pat Kurt's leg, but he 'missed' and ended up with his hand almost on Kurt's crotch, smirking at the strangled _guh _that escaped his partner's lips.

"You okay there?" Sam asked, rubbing his hand over Kurt's thigh, fingers sliding just down between his legs. Those pants really were tight—he could feel Kurt's tense muscle beneath the denim, even the slight line of more fabric beneath—boxer briefs, Sam guessed.

"I'm fine." Kurt's reply took a moment, but when it came, it was surprisingly level. Sam glanced over, surprised, and saw the Cheerio staring resolutely ahead, his jaw tight, cheeks flushed with color. _Ah_, Sam thought to himself. _He's acting. _"Just drive," Kurt continued, glancing sideways at Sam. "And don't crash." He reached down, covering Sam's hand with his own for a moment before pulling it off his leg. "I want you in one piece."

"Aye aye, sir," Sam teased, turning the keys in the ignition and backing out of the parking spot. "Buckle up!"

.

* * *

.

Kurt managed to survive the car ride to Sam's house (a neat little bungalow, with Sam claiming the attic room as his own) without embarrassing himself further. He didn't have much time to admire the furnishings, though, before finding himself pressed against the wall, Sam's mouth fastened securely against his own. Somehow, they made it upstairs (after Kurt's spine made the acquaintance of several more walls, a light switch in the hall, and the corner of the banister) and Sam had tumbled Kurt backwards onto his bed.

Gasping, Kurt rolled his hips up, his head thrown to the side as Sam trailed sucking kisses down his throat. Their shirts had been discarded (not hastily—Kurt had folded his neatly) long ago, and Kurt was digging his fingers into the small of Sam's back as they rocked against each other. "So... fucking... gorgeous..." Sam was muttering against Kurt's sweat-slicked skin, closing his mouth over the jut of Kurt's collarbone and biting hard. Kurt spasmed beneath him, hips jerking, dragging their cocks together through the jeans they still wore.

"Do that again," Kurt panted, stretching down to grip Sam's belt, manhandling him into a better position. Sam's laugh was a puff of breath against his chest before he obliged, biting again. Kurt groaned deeply, wrapping one leg around Sam's and grinding up against him.

"You like it rough?" Sam asked, raking his nails down Kurt's sides, chuckling as the smaller boy writhed. "Never would've guessed, seeing you." He lapped at Kurt's chest, his hands creeping up again, tickling against the sensitive skin of Kurt's under arms, reaching for his wrists. "How about this?"

Kurt wailed as Sam suddenly pinned his wrists to the bed, leaning down to bite Kurt's nipple, tugging at the flesh with his teeth. He rocked his hips again, but Sam was moving, pressing his knees over Kurt's thighs, holding him down, his legs spread. "Please, please, _please_," Kurt chanted, giving stilted thrusts hopelessly into the air between them now, his hands twisting and clenching uselessly.

"Please what?" Sam asked, blowing across Kurt's damp nipple before worrying it between his teeth again. Kurt bucked on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he whined again.

"T-t-touch me!" he stuttered, digging his heels into the bed, trying to get enough leverage to move even with Sam's weight pinning him down. "_Please_, god... Sam..."

Sam laughed, partly in surprise as Kurt managed to get his hips off the bed for a moment, even with Sam kneeling on his thighs. He leaned forward, shifting both of Kurt's thin wrists into one of his own, reaching between Kurt's legs to palm the bulge in his jeans. "Like this?" he asked, squeezing.

Kurt gave another full body spasm, arching his back and thrashing his head on the bed, completely ignoring what this was doing to his hair. "_Yes_! Yes, yes, yes... _no!_" Sam looked up sharply at that change, rubbing his hand over Kurt's fly. "No, no, wait..."

"Another confession?" Sam teased, giving Kurt's nipple one last kiss before leaning up to catch his mouth again, still holding him in place. "What, are you really a girl?" He gave another squeeze, grinning as Kurt jerked.

"No," Kurt gasped, opening his eyes, wiping his forehead on his forearm as best as he could. "No, I just... I... nngh..." Sam raised an eyebrow and Kurt choked out his problem. "These jeans are Calvin Klein..."

Sam dropped his head to Kurt's neck with a laugh. "Don't want to get 'em dirty?"

Red-faced, Kurt shook his head, his embarrassment underlined by the hand that kept stroking and squeezing him through the denim. A little voice in the back of his head (which sounded suspiciously like Puck) was going _Screw the jeans! Keep going! _But the rest of Kurt's mind was cringing at the thought of wearing cum-soaked jeans until he could get home and change, and what if it left a stain? Or worse, what if his dad came across him trying to get to his room unnoticed?

"I can fix that," Sam said, kissing Kurt's throat before biting down, digging his teeth in _almost_ hard enough to draw blood. His fingers slid up the line of Kurt's erection, popping open the button on his jeans and yanking his zipper down.

Kurt gasped, his dick throbbing as Sam slid his hand into Kurt's jeans and pulled at the elastic waist of his underwear. Sam shifted again, climbing off Kurt's legs to kneel between them. He pressed Kurt's wrists hard against the bed before releasing them, a silent warning to keep them in place. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving, as Sam hooked both hands into the waist of his briefs and began peeling them down, taking the jeans with them.

_Too fast..._ Kurt thought, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. Oh dear god, he was going to be _naked_ in another boy's bed. His heart was pounding in his ears, but Sam's mouth sucking at his throat and the skim of knuckles against his bare thighs were helping the Puck-voice in his head grow in strength. _Screw the worry! Keep going!_ Kurt whimpered, biting his lip. _I don't even really _know _him!_

To his credit, Sam didn't pull Kurt's pants down very far, just enough to keep them clear of any mess. And then his hands were back, one squeezing Kurt's wrists again while the other slid up to his exposed erection.

It was over embarrassingly fast after that. Sam growled against Kurt's throat before biting down again, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's cock and stroking hard. Kurt yelped, stars exploding behind his eyes as he arched completely off the bed, feeling his own spunk spatter against his stomach. Kurt barely made out the sound of another zipper dropping over the roaring in his ears. He forced his eyes open to watch Sam tuck his hand in his pants, frantically jerking himself off. _Me, _Kurt thought. _That's from me..._ Still breathing heavily through his open mouth, Kurt pushed himself onto one elbow and reached out, touching the weeping head of Sam's dick. He circled his fingers around the crown and gasped again as Sam groaned and came all over Kurt's belly.

As Sam sagged over Kurt, trying to catch his breath, Kurt dropped his hand and looked down at the mess. Strings of pearly white cum glistened on his skin, his pants were halfway down his thighs, and his right nipple was much, much redder than the left. He reached up, touching it gingerly, hissing faintly as it twinged.

"You okay?" Sam asked, voice just a little breathless. Kurt looked up at his eyes and nodded, a small smile creeping over his face. Sam grinned back, and then, after a moment, reached out to swipe his fingers through the cum on Kurt's stomach, mixing it together. He reached up, tracing his sticky forefinger over Kurt's lips. The smaller boy blushed, opening his mouth after a moment, catching Sam's finger with his tongue and drawing it into his mouth.

"Fuck yeah," Sam breathed, watching Kurt suck his fingers clean with awe-struck eyes. "I could get used to this..."

.

* * *

.

Kurt was surprised by the lack of awkwardness he felt with Sam. Sam had given him a handful of tissues to clean himself off with, and after Kurt had pulled his pants up, Sam had distracted him from putting his shirt back on with a kiss. With many kisses, actually, and Kurt decided that shirtless make-out sessions really were quite fun.

When Mrs. White called upstairs to see if Kurt was staying for dinner, though, Kurt shook his head. "I promised my dad I'd be back by seven," he said, lifting an arm to glance at his watch.

Six-fifty.

"If we leave now," Sam said, sliding his arms around Kurt's waist from behind and peering over his shoulder at his watch, "I can probably get you home in time."

Kurt nodded, hastily reaching for his shirt. The moment it was on, he was flying out the door, running experienced hands through his hair and cringing at how mussed it was. He wouldn't be able to get it perfect before he got home, but maybe he could just convince his dad that they went no further than enthusiastic making out...

In Sam's car, Kurt pulled out a compact and winced at how debauched he looked. His lips were kiss swollen, a new look for him. He pursed his lips and studied his reflection for a moment before deciding that he rather liked it. But his face was horribly flushed, and the makeup he had applied earlier today wasn't doing much to cover it. There was also a rather impressive hickey on the side of his neck, too high for his collar to cover. It was already bruising, a deep purple. "You have severely limited my wardrobe for the rest of the week," Kurt grumbled, prodding the mark.

Sam laughed. "Don't tell me you didn't love it."

Kurt just smiled at his reflection before snapping the compact closed and rummaging through his bag. His black newsboy hat covered the worst of his hair disaster, and that maroon Hermes scarf would make a passable cover for the hickey. Of course, it didn't go with this shirt _at all_, but it only had to hide things until he could get to his room and tackle his appearance with his full arsenal of accessories and makeup.

"Do you carry your closet in your man-purse?" Sam asked, glancing over as Kurt added accessories. "What the hell do you have in there?"

Kurt sniffed, closing his bag and tipping his hat at a jaunty angle. "It was a gift from my grandmother," he said. "A portable hammerspace bag."

Sam raised his eyebrows, and Kurt grinned. "No, just a few key accessories to fix any fashion emergency. _Almost _any fashion emergency. Staples that can go with 95% of my wardrobe, just in case."

"Such as?"

Kurt gestured at the hat and scarf. "Hat, a handful of scarves in varying colors, one belt, three ties (one bow), a pair of gloves, big shades, a red t-shirt and a pair of black jeans tightly rolled at the bottom."

Sam blinked. "How do you fit your books in there!"

Kurt looked at his bag and shrugged. "I'm a remarkably efficient packer?" The accessories didn't take up _that _much space. The belt and the hat took up the most room (the jeans were thin and cheap and truly there as last resort only. Kurt would never wear them when not under duress).

"You are a man of hidden talents," Sam marveled, shaking his head. "Okay, it's right up here, right?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "Second one on the left." He unbuckled as Sam pulled into his driveway, shouldering his bag. "Thank you for the ride. And the ice cream. And... and everything else in between."

"No, thank _you_," Sam said, putting the car in park and leaning over to snag Kurt's scarf, dragging him close for another kiss. "See you at school tomorrow?"

Kurt gave a little nod, his fingers tight around the strap of his bag. "Yes... but no date. Cheerios..."

"Football," Sam replied. "See you around."

"Bye..." Kurt whispered, reaching behind him and fumbling with the handle.

It took Kurt a minute to find the right key to get inside the front door, which was rather alarming, as he only had five keys on his keyring, and then he found that the door was already unlocked anyway and he had successfully locked it. By that point, Burt had come up from the inside and opened the door for him, a flat look on his face. "I thought I told you seven."

"It is seven!" Kurt protested.

"It's _six after_."

Kurt blinked, checking his watch. Yep, 7:06. "Close to seven..."

Burt ran his hand over his head, making an exasperated sound. "Kurt, I love you, no matter what, and I'm happy you found a... a boyfriend, but this whole gay thing is still pretty new to me. Hell, this whole _relationship _thing is. I'm not used to you going out after school, period. And I..."

He trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words, but Kurt knew what they were. _I worry._ Burt had nearly had an aneurysm the one time he caught Kurt coming home after a drive-by pee-ballooning (Kurt made sure he was never caught again). He was not oblivious to the threats and slurs, though Kurt did his best to keep the worst offenders out of his notice. "I'm home now, Dad," he said quietly, stepping closer and putting his hand on his dad's arm. "I'm okay. Everything's okay. Nothing happened."

Burt clenched his jaw a couple times, looking like he was chewing on something before he spoke again. "I told you to be back by seven, and you show up late, looking half-molested, and I'm supposed to believe that nothing happened?"

Kurt dropped his hand, startled, and Burt's eyes widened a little, like he had just trod on a cat's tail accidentally. "Not that something happening is necessarily a _bad _thing," he clarified quickly. "Because I..." he nodded quickly, "I remember high school. But nothing... nothing bad happened? Nothing... you weren't... he didn't..."

"Dad?" Kurt asked quietly, waiting for his father to acknowledge him before continuing. "I _really _don't want to have a gay sex talk with you. No offense. I just can't see it going easily for either of us."

Burt's nods were a little firmer this time. "Yeah, yeah, I know. And I don't know anything about gay sex. I mean, I do. I mean... I did a bit of research. Tried to. In case you... you know... _did _have questions..."

"Oh god," Kurt mumbled, covering his face with one hand. "Dad, it's okay. I know how to use Google myself. You don't need to do any more research. Not _any_."

"Right." Burt cleared his throat, shoving his hands in the pockets of his flannel shirt. "So. Uh. You had a good time, then?"

Kurt gave a single deep nod. "Oh yes. We went to Dairy Queen. He bought me a fudge bar. I met his parents. They seem very nice."

"Good," Burt said. "That's good. Very good. His dad too? Not gonna, uh..."

"He's out," Kurt said with a shrug. "His parents aren't going to beat me up for dating him."

"That's good," Burt repeated.

Kurt took pity on him, reaching out to touch his arm again. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry. That was my fault. We did leave his place before seven, but we hit every red light. I should have let you know I was coming home."

Burt gave a little shake of his head and a rueful half-smile. "Six minutes late. You've always been good about your curfew. I... can't get mad at you for enjoying yourself on your first date..."

"I'll do better next time," Kurt said. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

Burt just shook his head again, reaching out to squeeze Kurt's shoulder. "You're a good kid, Kurt. Now go get yourself cleaned up for dinner."

Kurt nodded, dropping his hand and turning to head toward his room, but his dad stopped him by calling out his name.

"Yes, Dad?"

"You didn't answer my question." Burt was looking a little uneasy. "Nothing bad happened?"

_He stuck his hand in my pants,_ Kurt thought. _A little fast for a first date, maybe... but Spanish... so a second date? And I did ask for it, in a way... _"No," he answered with a hint of a smile. "Nothing bad at all..."


	8. Cheerios

You want to see something fun? Go here: h t t p : / / f e a r f u l l t . l i v e j o u r n a l . c o m / 1 5 2 4 . h t m l and look at the second picture down. Kurt with shoulder-Pucks? Those were inspired by the smut from last fic, where Kurt had a Puck-voice in his head telling him to do naughty things (you could never have a shoulder-Puck dressed like an angel). (warning, the first picture has a shirtless guy with his pants hanging open. But he's got briefs on. It's all good. (That is the LJ of my bestest guinea-pig reader in the whole wide world, and you should leave her notes to tell her how awesome she is (and request pictures for her to draw. She wants requests!))

Okay, plugging for my friend aside, here's chapter eight!

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**How Things Work**

_Cheerios_

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Kurt could hear guns firing and Finn's laughter as he came down the basement steps. Video games again. At least it was probably just him... nope, no such luck. Puck was sprawled on the couch, Finn sitting on the floor leaning up against it, both of them cackling as they cut bloody swathes through the virtual soldiers on the screen. Kurt wrinkled his nose, swatting at Puck's shoulder as he walked past. "Shoes _off _the couch!" It was bad enough that Puck traipsed around his bedroom in those grungy clodhoppers he called shoes, but even worse that Puck would prop them up on the arm of his white sofa without any shame for the footprints he left behind. Kurt swore he did it on purpose, after being told fifty times, just to drive Kurt crazy.

Puck snickered, toeing off his shoes as Finn paused the game. "Bout time you got home, Princess."

"You weren't there to practice for Glee today," Finn said, twisting around to watch Kurt.

"I know," Kurt said, pulling his closet doors open and flipping through his shirts. "I'm sorry. The girls knew why... I meant to tell you too..."

"Mercedes said you blew us off for a booty call."

"She said _what!_" Kurt's hand stilled on his Marc Jacobs black turtleneck, but he stared over his shoulder at the taller boy. "No, that's not..."

"It was totally a booty call, dude," Puck said, leering at Kurt from the couch. "I was _there_, remember?"

Kurt opened and closed his mouth a couple times before rolling his eyes, turning back to his closet. "It wasn't like that, Finn. I forgot about the rehearsal. I was _going _to cancel with Sam, but Quinn and Mercedes insisted I go. Puck too, for that matter." He shot the mohawked boy a glare, but Puck just laughed.

"Yeah," Finn said, now grinning. "That's what Quinn said after she and Mercedes stopped laughing."

Kurt scoffed, rolling his eyes and taking down the hanger with the turtleneck. "_So _nice to know you guys mock me when I'm not there to defend myself."

"It's not mocking if it's true," Puck pointed out, leaning his arms on the back of the couch. "So? You give away your v-card, Princess?"

Kurt once again cursed his lack of blush control. He could _feel _his face burning. "That's none of your business!"

"Wait... so... you and White _actually..._?" Finn's smile was crumbling into something a bit more confused (and disturbed) now.

Kurt had to take pity on him, shaking his head as he crossed over to his vanity, running his fingers over the jars and containers there. "No. We didn't. If you must know." He glanced back at the other two boys. Finn was looking relieved, but Puck was... was looking smug? Kurt rankled at that expression, selecting a couple jars and lifting his chin. "But," he said, reaching up to loosen the scarf as he headed to the bathroom, "that's not to say we didn't enjoy ourselves." He tugged the scarf off from around his neck, turning to wink at Puck over his shoulder, angling his body just so so that the boys could see the dark hickey on the side of his neck. The gesture was completely worth it for the surprise on Puck's face alone.

Finn cleared his throat after a moment, right before Kurt reached the bathroom. "So, Mercedes brought the music to rehearsal today."

"Oh?" Kurt hesitated, his hand on the door, before leaving it open so he could hear Finn. He turned on the faucet, reaching for a washcloth. "Do you think we can work it?"

"Yeah," Finn said with a grin. "Quinn's got this great dance worked out. It looks really cool, but I didn't trip up too much, so it's not that hard."

Kurt laughed, running the damp cloth over his face, washing off the feeling of dried sweat that was starting to get on his nerves. "That's always good. Think you can teach it to me, or should I go to the girls for that?"

"Mercedes said something about coming over tonight so we could work on it some more." The sounds of the video game started up again. Kurt glanced out to see the boys were playing again, giving him the chance to pull his shirt off, surreptitiously swiping the cloth over his chest and stomach before reaching for the Marc Jacobs. "Mercedes said she wanted to see your costumes..."

"Working on them," Kurt said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing it in place. "Almost done. And yes, I promise, no feathers, no glitter. Not much glitter." He leaned on the sink, frowning at his hair in the mirror. It was a _mess_. "No ribbons on yours."

"Uh... thanks..."

Puck was snickering, and Kurt looked up in time to see Finn elbow the other boy, who looked away from Kurt. "You were supposed to be watching my back!"

"Sorry, dude. Just trying to picture you in glitter..." He was smirking at Kurt, though, prompting a roll of the eyes from the other boy.

Kurt just shook his head and picked up his brush, determined to restore his perfect hair before dinner.

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At Cheerios practice the next day, Kurt belted _Come Baby Come_ backed up by the whole compliment of Cheerios, actually bringing the nearby football practice to a stuttering halt as the jocks stood, open-mouthed, gaping at the cheerleaders flipping, twisting, and grinding in ways that were borderline obscene. Kurt stood front and center, finding Sam (number 38) among the footballers and singing the song directly to him, not missing a single step of the routine (which ended up with Britney between his legs, for some reason).

"_SLOPPY, LAZY, PATHETIC BABIES_!" Coach Sylvester roared through her bullhorn, even as the footballers burst out into applause and whistles. "_YOU MAKE ME SICK!_"

_And yet, _Kurt thought, as she rolled into her usual litany of abuse, _she calls us all by name._ He dropped his final pose, reaching up to wipe sweat from his brow with the band around his arm. Coach Sylvester criticized each and every Cheerio individually for their performance, and Kurt just had to smile, putting a hand on his hip and looking over at Sam. Finn and Puck were nearby too, without their helmets on, glancing over his way.

"_HUMMEL!_"

Ah, his turn for a chewing out. Kurt bounced to face the coach, a sunny smile on his face. Coach Sylvester never meant what she said, he had decided. Well, no, she meant it, but it wasn't because she wanted to make her Cheerios feel worthless and pathetic. She just wanted to make them better. It hadn't taken long for Kurt to figure that out, which made her insults slide right off him.

"_HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING! THEY COULD HEAR YOUR WHEEZING IN CHICAGO!_"

And that meant... ah, his microphone had been too close to his mouth. Kurt gave a contrite-looking nod and reached up to adjust the headset.

"_LOPEZ! ARE YOU A MOUSE OR A MOTORCYCLE!"_

Kurt's mouth dropped open in a moment of undisguised shock. That was _it_? One small fix that had nothing to do with his performance but just with his equipment? That was the closest Sue Sylvester had ever come to giving his performance a compliment, and he punched the air in triumph, grinning at the jealous looks some of the other Cheerios gave him. Oh yes, he was _on _today!

The footballers were uninterested in heading back to practice, apparently, as they started creeping toward the cheerleaders. Tanaka was trying to heard them back, but he finally gave up with a disgusted toss of his hands, dismissing the pansies for the day. The Cheerios milled around, the already-insulted working to either correct the errors Coach Sylvester had called them out on or simply moving out of the way. Kurt maneuvered himself to the far side of the pack, watching the approaching footballers with a little smile, his head cocked to the side. Sam, he had to admit, could really rock those tight pants and big pads...

"Hey babe," Sam purred, dropping his helmet before coming up to slip his arms around Kurt's waist. "I liked your song..." Kurt's eyes widened as he found himself pressed up against his boyfriend, in front of everyone, but Sam kept a reassuring smile on his face. "Don't look at them," he murmured. "Just look at me. You were _hot_. I didn't know you could get your leg that high..."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Kurt said primly, reaching up to rest his hands on Sam's padded chest. "I have many hidden depths..." He was tense, though, very aware that he was in close proximity to the majority of his old bullies and being completely, undeniably gay.

"I look forward to sounding those depths," Sam teased, his eyes sparkling. Kurt offered him a tiny smile, and the footballer's expression softened. "Kurt, you're the star cheerleader. I'm a star footballer. Together, we make a power couple. They'd be stupid to fuck with us now."

"Funny," Kurt mumbled. "That didn't seem to stop them last year..."

"Was I around last year?"

"No, but Finn was..."

"Finn's not your boyfriend," Sam said, shaking his head. "Don't think about last year. Think about this year. Think about what it's going to be like, being on top of the pack for once."

Kurt closed his eyes. "Well... I _haven't _been thrown in the dumpster yet..."

"See? Working already." Sam dipped his head down to rest his forehead against Kurt's. "Now, let me stake my claim." Kurt opened his eyes in time for Sam to press their lips together, dipping him back slightly.

_Oh dear god... _This was like a scene from his nightmares, being kissed, in front of the jocks. They were _right there _and they were going to _kill him _and Kurt was definitely going to be the star piece in a game they liked to call "Pummel Hummel." One familiar voice spoke up, a voice that had led the bully pack for nearly two years.

"Oi, Princess! Keep it to yourself!"

Puck. _Puck_. Kurt very nearly sobbed in relief, only just barely managing to hold on to his composure. Just Puck, who didn't go after him anymore. Puck, whose taunts of 'princess' Kurt had come to realize was actually how Puck showed that he considered him a sort-of friend.

"Now smile for your audience," Sam murmured against Kurt's mouth before breaking the kiss and letting him stand on his own again.

_Someday, they will all work for me, _Kurt reminded himself, tilting his chin up. He would _not _be a blushing virgin in front of the jocks _and _the Cheerios. He was Kurt Hummel, the best thing to happen to this backwards school, even if no one realized it yet. And so, with that defiance filling him, he turned to face the gathered students.

Half of the jocks had partnered up with the milling Cheerios and weren't even paying attention, but Brittany was beaming at him and giving him a thumbs-up while Santana merely gave Sam a once over before nodding approvingly at Kurt.

Among the jocks, some of Karofsky's friends, Azimio and Donahue especially, were looking skeptically at the pair, but Kurt just lifted his chin higher, looking down his nose at them. Who cared what they thought? Not he. Finn and Puck's reactions were more important.

Puck had his arms crossed, helmet dangling from one hand, a look of contempt on his face, while Finn stood slightly behind him, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, glancing around as if he was unsure of where to look. He kept glancing at Kurt and glancing away, and Kurt sighed to himself. Finn wasn't homophobic, but he clearly wasn't the most comfortable with his roommate kissing other boys.

"_GET OFF MY FIELD!_" Coach Sylvester roared. "_HIT THE SHOWERS AND DON'T COME OUT UNTIL THE STENCH OF YOUR FAILURE IS SCALDED FROM YOUR PORES!"_

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"Can you _get _more faggy?" Azimio asked, snapping his towel against Sam's back. "You sucked face with that homo!"

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring the strike. "Duh. It's not like Hummel's gonna trust me if I treat him like shit now, is he? Got to repair the damage you mammoths did first." The Cheerios had all left the locker rooms, and most of the footballers too. Sam was grateful Hudson and his Glee club compadres were gone. The last thing he needed was for this conversation to find its way back to Kurt's ears. "Besides, I saw you watching him dance. He was just screaming for someone to fuck him on the field."

"Dude, no way. I was watching Lopez. She knows how to twirl that skirt up!"

"Whatever." Sam shook his head, smirking. "How are you coming on your girls? I've already got a hand job from Hummel."

"Hand job's not sex," Donahue grunted, tugging his shirt on.

"Sounds like it's more than either of you are getting right now," Sam retorted, grabbing for his bag and fishing a black sharpie out. "Here we go. Me." He drew a line on his locker. "One. You, none. Game on."


	9. Guys' Nights

_For Your Entertainment_ is by Adam Lambert and will crop up several times in this fic. Why? Because it is my mental theme for the Sam/Kurt relationship. Here. Listen and enjoy-this youtube video has the lyrics h t t p : / / w w w . y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = U x U V 6 P 3 6 n c g

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**How Things Work**

_Guys' Nights_

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"No, no, no, no, _no_! Ah!" Kurt wailed as his Kirby tumbled off the side of the platform for the fiftieth time this game, knocking him out of the round. "Damnit!"

"Dude, you _suck_!" Puck was laughing as he continued to wail on Matt, who seemed to be having fun... tossing bacon at people? Kurt did not see the allure of it.

"Some of us have more important things to do than perfect our video game skills," Kurt grumped, tossing his controller aside and lifting his virgin cosmo to his lips.

"What, like read _Seventeen_?" Puck asked, shouldering Kurt and making him very nearly spill his drink on his shirt.

"It's _Vogue_," he corrected, shooting the other boy a glare and pressing closer to the arm of the small couch so Puck wasn't so tempted to jostle him.

"It's kinda interesting, actually," Mike said, from where he was stretched out on Finn's bed, flipping through Kurt's latest issue of the magazine and waiting his turn with a controller. "Some of the articles. The ones not about clothes. This one's all about music."

"See?" Kurt said, gesturing to Mike. "I'm not the only one who reads it!"

"That's because you don't have anything else lying around," Puck snickered. "No porn!" Kurt just rolled his eyes and got off the couch, heading over to Finn's bed to sit beside Mike and see what article he was reading.

The school year was in full swing now, and the Glee club had really kicked into overdrive preparing for Sectionals this year. The summer essay songs had been a great start, with _We Are Family_ bringing down the house, followed closely by Puck's rendition of the Beach Boys hit _I Get Around_ and Brittany and Santana's surprisingly jazzy _It's A Small World After All _(they apparently went to Disney World)_. _Rachel, denied her usual backup choir, ended up belting out _Vacation _to a standing ovation, while Artie, Matt, Mike, and Tina chose to forgo words and led the room in a dance to _Wipeout!_

Mr. Schu had split the club up into girls versus boys again, but this time, he made them all swear to play fair. No drugs, no cheating, and no exotic bird feathers. The girls had immediately thrown themselves into plotting this time, and Mercedes had completely shut Kurt out tonight with an all-girls party at her house to make plans. Finn had heard about it from Rachel, and somehow the guys had decided to fight back by having an all-guys party (but it wasn't a _slumber _party) at the Hudson-Hummel home. That was why Kurt had Matt, Puck, and Finn crowded around his tv while Mike, ever the nice guy, was waiting his turn (Artie was out of town with the AV Club). Kurt had tried to bow out of the video games, but Puck had insisted that Kurt be a man and join them in manly bonding. He had refused to believe that Kurt was as hopeless as he claimed at something as 'simple' as Smash Bros.

Of course, in all this manly bonding, there was no routine plotting. Kurt just sighed and shook his head. "The girls are going to kick our collective asses this time."

"Eh, let 'em," Matt said with a shrug. "We totally kicked theirs last time with KISS," ("Did not," Kurt huffed), "and the time before. If they don't win every now and then, their poor hearts might break from despair."

"Kinda like Hummel's poor heart when he suicide-leapt for the _sixth time?" _Puck snickered.

"Well, maybe if Matt hadn't been _throwing bacon _at me!" Kurt crossed his arms and pouted. "What kind of game is this, anyway?"

"The kind you suck at!"

Kurt sniffed, but he smiled when Mike looked over worriedly at him. He wasn't _really _offended. "Way to go, Finn! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Sorry, bro." Finn did not sound apologetic at all. "I gotta side with the guy helping me take Matt down!"

"Oh, wait, we're on the same side? So I shouldn't do... _THIS!_" Puck cackled as his character spun around and started chasing Finn's.

Kurt just rolled his eyes, rising to his feet. "I'm going to get a refill," he said, lifting his empty glass. "Anyone else want anything while I'm in the kitchen?" He was met by a chorus of snack requests, most of them completely greasy and processed. Sadly, ever since the Hudsons moved in, Kurt's iron fist on the kitchen cupboards had been subverted and they actually _had _most of those foods now. Burt especially seemed to take great relish in eating everything non-organic.

Burt was actually in the kitchen now, making himself a sandwich when Kurt came in. "Hey," he said, giving his son a nod and crooked smile. "How's guys' night going?"

"They are completely gorging themselves on the most unhealthy pieces of cardboard they can find, getting radioactive orange fingerprints all over the room and beating each other up virtually," Kurt sniffed, pulling out a bag of chips, before he gave his dad a little smile. "I'm under the impression that means things are going smashingly well."

Burt chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, sounds like it. You having fun?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Kurt said. "Except I wish they'd pick a different game. I just can't win at Smash Bros. And it's not that I _need _to win all the time, I just... wish I could lose a little less spectacularly."

"Eh." Burt shrugged. "You gotta practice to get good at those things. You can invite them over more often, you know."

"They're mostly Finn's friends," Kurt said quickly, shaking his head. "I get along better with the girls..."

"You can have guy friends too, Kurt," Burt said, clapping Kurt on the shoulder as he put the cheese away. "Just because you're... you know, gay, doesn't mean you're not allowed to have guys around. Unless they're not okay with it...?"

"They're all in Glee, Dad," Kurt said. "Even if they're not okay with it, they'd tolerate it, because that's what we _do _in Glee. It's why we haven't buried Rachel yet."

"Rachel's a nice girl."

"That's because you've only ever had to deal with her for an hour at a time when she came over for dinner, and half the time, she did eat," Kurt said. "But remember what she was doing the other half of the time?"

"Er... talking?"

"Exactly." Kurt nodded. "She talks more than me. About herself. More than me. And she has _no _idea how to dress. Don't believe the 'all gay men are fashionable' stereotype. She has two gay fathers, and they _clearly _haven't taught her a thing..."

"She does?" Burt looked surprised, and Kurt nodded. "Huh. Maybe I should talk to-"

"Stop right there," Kurt said, turning quickly and holding up a finger. "You are _not_, under any circumstances, going to _Rachel Berry _and her dads for gay advice. That is strictly forbidden. Outlawed. Not. A. Chance. I would much, _much _rather you botch things up completely with me than go to the Berrys." He frowned at his dad's expression, shaking that finger. "I'm serious. No Berrys."

"I would rather not botch things up completely with you," Burt pointed out.

Kurt softened a little, offering Burt a smile. "I know. And you know what, Dad? I don't think you can. You just... keep on being awesome, and I'll keep on doing everything I can to deserve you."

"Kurt..."

Kurt shook his head, hefting the tray of snacks he'd gathered. "Have to keep them fed, or they'll wreck my room." He smiled again at his dad before heading back downstairs.

While he was gone, the boys had pushed the furniture out of the middle of the room (not that there was much there to begin with—Kurt liked his practice space) and Mike was in the middle, freestyling up a storm.

"What are you _wearing_?" Kurt demanded, setting the tray down. Because that black leather jacket hadn't been on Mike when he came in. Kurt would know. Kurt knew fashion.

"Oh, uh..." Mike stopped dancing, getting to his feet and looking sheepish. "Finn said it was yours..."

Kurt looked at the jacket and sighed. Such a cliched piece. "Yes. That's mine."

"What, you own clothes you don't like?" Puck asked, raising an eyebrow. "And _black leather_ on top of that? I thought you said you were never wearing such a travesty again, after our mash-up last year."

"It wasn't my choice," Kurt said, rolling his eyes and tossing the bag of cheese puffs at Finn's hopeful, puppy-dog look. His throw was off, but Finn caught it anyway. "It's part of a uniform. For Cheerios."

"Cheerios is all red and white," Matt said. "Can I have the cookies?"

"Have whatever you want," Kurt answered, waving his hand at the tray. "And there's some black in there too. Coach Sylvester is thinking of shaking things up for our next tournament. Actual costumes. I think she just secretly wants a more-successful Glee club than Mr. Schu's. Dancing, then vocals, and now costumes?" He shook his head. "Just don't tell her my suspicions. She hasn't tried to eviscerate me yet this year, and I'd like to keep my streak going."

"Put it on!" Mike said, pulling the jacket off and holding it out to Kurt. "Come on, I wanna see you wearing leather!"

"You should do the song, too," Finn suggested, already wrist-deep in the cheese puffs. "It's by that Glambert guy. Kurt totally rocks it."

"I don't..." Kurt took the jacket, squeezing the soft leather between his fingers (Coach Sylvester could afford the very best for her Cheerios). Finn's praise was unexpected and especially warming. "It's not as... cool without the backup. And we're not performing it until that pep rally to kick off Thanksgiving break..."

"Hey!" Matt sat up, clapping his hands together. "What if we did that song for our routine?" As everyone looked at him, he explained. "Coach Sylvester's always cutting down the Glee club, leaking our set list, stealing our songs, you know, right? We could steal this one from her! If we perform it next week, that's before the pep rally, and it doesn't really _hurt _anyone, so Mr. Schu won't call it wrong..."

"And then it looks like she stole our song!" Puck was grinning. "Like what she tried to do last year at sectionals. And we already have the leather jackets. I'm in."

"Kurt, you can sing the lead," Finn said. "Since you already know the song."

"Now come on," Mike said, backing out of the middle of the room. "Show us how the dance goes."

"Er... okay." Kurt looked at the jacket in his hands before shrugging it on. "But we'll have to modify the choreography so we aren't directly ripping it off of Coach Sylvester. That's just plagiarism. Finn, cue up the song?"

Finn licked his fingers clean and wiped his hand on his jeans before turning to the iPod. Kurt winced a little but said nothing. He brushed his hair back and closed his eyes, moving into the first position for the song as _For Your Entertainment _started pouring from the speakers.

The first run-through, Kurt performed solo, but Puck and Mike joined in for the second, and by the third, all five boys were singing and moving, unconsciously leaving a space for Artie to join them when he returned.

_All in all, _Kurt thought as he studied his room through half-closed eyes when they finally tumbled into beds (Mike was curled up cat-like at the foot of his bed, Matt had sprawled across the couch, limbs hanging off every side, and Puck and Finn were sharing Finn's bed with an ease that showed this wasn't the first time they'd bunked together, backs together),_ not bad for my first guys' night._


	10. Solos

I feel I must admit that this chapter and the last are very filleresque. I've received a couple complaints to that effect, but I can't apologize. You see, this fic is completely completed, and I can see the whole thing. Pacing-wise, this is an important calm before the storm. Both chapters are absolutely necessary for character development, and both introduce some subtle plot needed for the flow of the whole story. I do apologize that this means you get two updates where it doesn't feel like much is happening, but I promise you, a lot _is._ And next chapter (which I will post on Tuesday), Sam returns. As the lyrics of _For Your Entertainment_ say: "No escaping when I start/Once I'm in I own your heart/There's no way to ring the alarm/So hold on until it's over..."

Kurt needs this calm.

Anyway, that being said, for this chapter, if you've somehow missed _Greased Lightnin'_, you need to watch this video: h t t p : / / w w w . y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = F e S K y i K l x r Q

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**How Things Work**

_Solos_

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Finn had told Kurt that Rachel once compared herself to Tinkerbell—_I live for applause—_and Kurt had to admit, he fully understood the sentiment. When the auditorium echoed with the clapping of the six girls, Mr. Schu, and Miss Pillsbury (once again the 'celebrity' judge), Kurt had to laugh, taking his bow with all of the guys on stage.

Santana was the first to pierce the happy bubble. "That's a Cheerios routine. They didn't come up with it."

Immediately, the footballers were protesting, coming to the front of the stage and loudly deriding any accusations of cheating. Puck was the most vocal of the four: "Dude, you think I'd _ever _dance like a cheerleader!"

"Kurt?" Mr. Schu was frowning at him, the sole Cheerio among the males. "Did you steal a Cheerios routine?"

"No, Mr. Schu," Kurt said, shaking his head and stepping forward. "We stole the song and let the routine inspire us, but I'd say at least ninety percent was our own invention. And the costumes are from our mash-up last year, so you could argue that the Cheerios lifted them from _us_." He smoothed his hand over the black leather. "We can't help it if we're too fashion-forward..."

Mercedes cracked up in the audience, and Kurt grinned at her.

"Yeah, Mr. Schu," Artie said, rolling up beside Kurt. "Just because the girls are afraid that their lack-luster performance of _Whenever, Wherever _can't possibly measure up to the sheer awesome factor that is the six of us in leather doesn't mean we should be accused of cheating."

"Besides," Finn said, "we just took the song to make up for all the times Coach Sylvester leaked _our _songs. And Kurt already had the music."

Mr. Schu looked down at the girls, spreading his hands. "What do you think, ladies?"

"I can approve of revenge tactics," Quinn said, tugging gently on one of her curls.

"We're not on the ground so much," Brittany agreed with a nod. "It's different."

"All right then. The boys' number can stand." Mr. Schu clapped his hands together, heading up to the stage. "And I've got our set list for Sectionals. Stop me if it's too juvenile... but after Brittany and Santana's first performance this year, I've been thinking _Disney_."

Rachel squealed, leaping to her feet. "Disney music has some of the _best _songs! I mean, just look at all the films that were adapted to Broadway! Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid...!"

"Disney?" Puck was looking skeptical. "Really, Mr. Schu? Isn't that a bit... girly?"

"Disney has _plenty _of masculine songs," Kurt said, turning to Puck with a scowl. "_I'll Make a Man Out of You_, from Mulan, _Go the Distance_, from Hercules, _Prince Ali_ from Aladdin..."

"Kurt's right," Mr. Schu said, stepping up to the boys. "But I'm thinking we focus more on their achieving your dreams songs. A very motivational, uplifting melody. We can start with _When You Wish Upon a Star_, one soloist, front and center."

Kurt rolled his eyes as Rachel clapped excitedly. _Three guesses who gets _that _role._

"We'll then bring the rest of you into _A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes_, and finish strong with _Go the Distance_. What do you think?"

"I _love _it!" Rachel announced, but all the girls were nodded and smiling along with her enthusiasm.

"It does sound very positive," Artie said. "Though a bit... mmm... juvenile probably is the right word."

"So you guys'll just have to rock it." Mr. Schu grinned at them. "We don't want this to sound like we just lifted them straight from the movies. You think we can do this?"

"Yeah!" Mike punched the air, earning him strange looks from the rest of the club. "What? I like Disney..."

Amid the laughter, Rachel flew toward the stage, her mouth working a mile a minute. "Mr. Schu, I've got some great ideas on how we can arrange the songs, and I know just how to sing my solo-"

"Whoa, hold on a minute there, Rachel," Mr. Schu said. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think you should sing the first solo here."

"Wait... what! How can you do this to me?" Rachel gaped up at the teacher. Mr. Schu gave her a shrug.

"If we're going to clear Nationals this year, we need to hold some of our secret weapons in reserve, right? And shock them with _other _secret weapons."

"Do we _have _other secret weapons?" Tina asked. "Rachel's our star."

"Ah," Mr. Schu said, holding up a finger, "but we _do _have other secret weapons. For example... we have a national-champion vocalist in our club." He swept his arm over to Kurt. "How about it, Kurt? You want to open Sectionals for us?"

"M-me!" Kurt's eyes were wide as he stared at Mr. Schu, pointing uselessly at himself. "You want _me _to sing the solo? You _never _give me solos!"

"I don't?" Mr. Schu asked, frowning at Kurt. "I could have sworn you've had solos before..." Kurt frowned a little back, shaking his head. Sure, he'd sung solos before, but never because Mr. Schu _gave _them to him. "Well, you'll have a solo now. I think you're ready for this. What do you say?"

Kurt smiled a little. "I love _Pinocchio._ Let's do this."

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Hummel Tire & Lube was the best place to go in Lima if you needed work done on your car. It was not, however, the cheapest. Not the sticker price, at least. The owner was known to give big discounts though, if he knew you, and Puck figured being in Glee with the owner's son and sorta-stepson was enough to knock the price of an oil change down to something his pocket could handle.

Puck parked his car outside the shop and wandered in, hands in his pockets, looking around with interest. Finn had taken to working here over the summer and really liked it, but Puck had always used Jiffy Lube in the past. There was music playing from somewhere, quiet but recognizable—_Greased Lightnin', _from _Grease_. Figured that Kurt Hummel's auto shop would be playing Broadway tunes.

And speaking of Kurt Hummel, there was a definitely small mechanic managing to dance from underneath a car. Dance and _sing._ Puck crouched down a little to look at the boy lying on a creeper, working on the underside of a Toyota.

"With new pistons, plugs, and shocks, I can get off my rocks! You know that I ain't braggin', she's a real pussy wagon—Greased Lightnin'!"

Puck stepped back as Kurt rolled out and bounced to his feet and executed a pirouette before quick-stepping over to a shelf to grab at some of the parts, examining them with an expert eye, still singing along to the music.

"Greased Lightnin', go Greased Lightnin'!"

He clearly didn't care that he wasn't alone (Puck wouldn't dance in public unless it was _very _well rehearsed) or that the other mechanics would glance over his way occasionally. At least they didn't look ready to take their tools to the back of Kurt's perfectly-coiffed head. That would rather put a dent in Puck's plans for a discount oil change.

"You are supreme, ah ah, the chicks'll cream, ah ah, for Greased Lightnin'!"

"You do realize that all this talk of pussy and cream has nothing to do with cats, right?" Puck asked, creeping up behind the dancing mechanic.

Kurt yelped, spinning so fast he nearly hit Puck with the wrench in his hand. "Puck! What are you doing here!"

"Junior!"

"It's okay!" Kurt called back, raising the wrench. "He's Finn's friend, it's cool."

The big guy who had called out frowned a little but gave a nod, turning back to his car. Puck frowned at Kurt. "What was that all about?"

Kurt's face went blank as he gave a shrug. "Karofsky came by this summer to get some work done. Um. Bad-mouthed me to my dad. Got kicked out. Now they're all wary of anyone in a letter jacket getting too close to me."

Puck frowned at Kurt, sensing there was more to the story than what Kurt was saying, but he shrugged and let it slide.

"So... what _are _you doing here?" Kurt asked, tucking the wrench into his toolbelt and adjusting his gloves. "Finn's at home, I think. With Rachel?"

"What would you say if I said I came here for you?" Puck asked with a leer, just to see if he could get Kurt to react.

Sure enough, the mechanic's cheeks, already a little flushed from his dancing, turned a few shades darker, but he brushed his bangs to the side and lifted his chin, settling one hand on his hip. "I'd say you were out of luck."

Puck grinned, giving a jerk of his head toward where he had parked. "Needed an oil change. Figured I could sweet-talk the owner into a discount. Or maybe his little 'Junior...'"

Kurt rolled his eyes, shaking a finger at Puck. "You only get to call me 'Junior' if you've worked here at least a year, so don't even start. But I might be nice and authorize a discount anyway. Where'd you park?"

Puck led Kurt to the car, watching as Kurt popped the hood with a frown. "Still hot—you just got here? We don't do hot changes: oil burns aren't fun. When do you need her done by?"

"I was hoping tonight..."

Kurt was eying Puck in a way that made him shift awkwardly. "You ever changed your oil before?"

"Nope." Puck shrugged. "Figured it was overdue."

Kurt rolled his eyes, closing the hood. "Let's get 'er in on a jack, let her cool off about ten minutes, and I'll teach you how to do it."

"Wait, what am I paying you for, then?" Puck asked, tossing his keys from hand to hand.

Kurt just shrugged. "I'd feel silly charging you for something so simple. Ten bucks, and you'll know how to do it yourself in the future."

Puck grinned, dropping his keys into Kurt's outstretched hand. Jiffy Lube charged his mom thirty when she got her oil changed. "Sounds more than fair!"

Kurt pulled Puck's car into the shop, expertly positioning it over one of the lifts, and beckoned for Puck to follow him into a breakroom. "Thirsty?" he asked, offering Puck a choice of sodas from the fridge. Puck took a Mountain Dew and watched Kurt sip from a bottle of Diet Coke.

"You're allowed to just take breaks?"

Kurt smiled wickedly. "My dad owns the place. I'm allowed to do _whatever_ I want." He shrugged, some of the evilness fading away. "Besides, I'm about an hour overdue for a break anyway."

"Enjoying performing too much?" Puck teased, laughing when Kurt actually stuck his tongue out in response.

"It's my day to choose the music, though they have to preapprove it first. _Grease _is a thousand times better than my dad's Mellencamp crap."

"Mellencamp's better than Disney." It was fun to bait Kurt, really, it was. Puck _liked _riling others up, and he had discovered that Kurt, when outside the school grounds, was surprisingly easy to annoy. All he had to do was put his shoes on the couch or insult his tastes and the smaller boy would start getting huffy and offended. But he could play along, too, unlike, for example, Quinn in the grips of baby hormones (but really, that fat chick joke was _hilarious_!), or Santana most of the time.

"_Please._ Mellencamp had one thing to say, and only one, and he clearly hadn't done a good job saying it if he had to rephrase it so many times. Disney's songs, on the other hand, span so many genres and are relateable on a much broader scale. There is _no _comparison."

"You're just saying that because Schu _finally_ gave you a solo, and it's Disney."

"I would happily sing Mellencamp again if it meant I'd get a solo," Kurt admitted. "Mr. Schu means well, but his blatant favoritism is... tiring, at times."

"You don't need to tell me about it," Puck said, rolling his eyes. He'd been quite surprised at his own solos at Regionals last year. "But Finn and Rachel have the best voices, so..."

Kurt huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Please. You could out-sing Finn any day, if you actually put some effort into practicing." Puck looked up at the other boy, watching as Kurt quickly averted his eyes. "Er... but don't tell Finn I said that. He does have a really good voice. Yours is just... it's a touch stronger."

"Course it is," Puck said with a smirk. "I'm a stud. Finn's just wholesome. I'm definitely the stronger one. Just check out these guns..."

Kurt rolled his eyes, standing up again. "I _meant_ stronger vocally. Now come on. Your car's probably cool enough to work with now, and it'll take at least twice as long to show you how to change your own oil as it would be to do it myself."

"Maybe you should just do it yourself," Puck said, following Kurt back into the shop. "I mean, I break things. I don't fix 'em. What if I break it?"

"If you manage to break your car doing a simple oil change, the sort of which I've been doing since I was _nine_," Kurt answered over his shoulder, "I'll fix the whole thing, free of charge. But don't take that as a challenge. I'd much rather see you do something right."


	11. Sex

Sam is back and the filler is over! Enjoy this chapter!

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Sex_

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"God, Kurt, your ass in those jeans today was _smoking_." Sam squeezed said ass, pulling Kurt even tighter against him, his head thrown back as Kurt pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the line of his throat. "I couldn't wait for you to stop singing so I could ravish you."

"And then you had to wait the whole car ride home," Kurt teased, giving a roll of his hips, pressing his erection up against Sam's. He was straddling his boyfriend on the couch in his room, still dressed in the Cheerios 'uniform' from the pep rally.

"Rachel would not shut _up_," Sam groaned, rocking back against Kurt. "I can see why she drives you crazy." The transmission on Sam's car had died the day before, but Finn had been gracious enough to provide rides for him as well as Kurt. Of course, that meant when Rachel wanted to come home with her boyfriend, she got to ride in the truck with them. Luckily, Finn's truck had an extended cab. Kurt and Rachel, as the smallest, had been squished into the bench in the back.

But Rachel and Finn were upstairs right now, in Finn's brand new bedroom. The addition was finally finished enough to be habitable, though some of Finn's stuff (his game systems especially) were still in Kurt's room. Kurt suspected Rachel and Finn were doing much the same thing that he and Sam were doing, taking advantage of the time when Burt and Carole were both at work. "Let's not talk about Rachel," Kurt murmured, working his hands under Sam's t-shirt. "Or even _think _about Rachel. I have no desire to kill my libido right now."

Sam grinned, sliding his hands up and under the red wife-beater Kurt had on under his leather jacket. "As if anything can kill your libido when I'm between your legs."

Kurt laughed and bit Sam's shoulder through his jacket. "If anything is capable of that, it's Finn's _girl_friend_._"

Sam wrapped his arms around Kurt and surged to his feet, picking Kurt up in his arms. The smaller boy gave a squeak, wrapping arms and legs around the footballer to keep from being dropped. "You know I _hate _being carried!"

Sam just laughed, dumping Kurt on his bed and following him down. "I was thinking," he said, pushing his hands under Kurt's shirt and up his stomach, tugging up the red cotton. "You've got a room all to yourself now. It's like a brand-new room. We should christen it."

"Christen it?" Kurt asked, his eyes snapping to Sam's face. "Like... with sex?"

It had been three months since Sam first kissed Kurt in this very room. Three months of not being alone, of living in a reality of kisses and arms around his shoulder, of hand jobs and frottage and even blow jobs (Sam had talked Kurt into trying out those about two months ago, and they hadn't looked back since). Still, they had never actually had _sex _before. Kurt was, as far as everyone else was concerned, still a virgin.

It wasn't that Kurt didn't _want _sex. He did want it, wanted it very much. Wanted it every minute of every day. And he wanted it with Sam. And yet... every time they got like this, hard and aching, pressed together from knees to nose, Kurt quailed at the thought of _actually _letting Sam fuck him.

"Shh," Sam murmured, kissing Kurt's cheeks and leaning back a little. "C'mon, baby, don't look so worried. I'll make it good for you. You know I will. Don't I always?" He ran his fingertips over Kurt's nipples, then pinched them hard, watching as Kurt groaned and arched off the bed. "Don't you trust me?"

Kurt forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "Sam..." He sat up, pushing Sam back until the taller boy was sitting over his knees. "I... I've never..."

"I know," Sam said, catching two fingers under Kurt's chin and tilting his face up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'd be honored if you let me be the first to show you how _good _it can be."

"Have you?" Kurt asked, smoothing out Sam's shirt where he'd been gripping it. Sam's past sexual experiences were not something they had ever talked about before. Kurt simply knew that he wasn't Sam's first boyfriend.

"Yeah." Sam reached up, tucking his hands under Kurt's jacket, on his bare shoulders. "And it was amazing. Like you today at the rally. I want to share that feeling with you." He started sliding his hands down Kurt's arms, tugging the jacket off. Kurt let him—naked was something they had done before. "And you've got nothing to worry about. I'm clean. Don't even need a condom."

"Finn's upstairs," Kurt whispered frowning a little at the thought of not using a condom. If they were both healthy, they didn't need it, right? But going without was just _stupid_ every resource Kurt had used for his late-night research said.

"Screw 'im," Sam said. "We locked your door and your room's soundproof, right?"

Kurt gave a slow nod, worrying his lip between his teeth until Sam stopped him with a kiss. "It's okay," Sam said. "We don't have to. I understand. You're not ready. I can't expect you to just fall into my arms..."

And there it was. Kurt closed his eyes, looping his bare arms around Sam's neck and dragging him down into another kiss. Disappointment. Kurt _hated _being a disappointment. "It's okay," he said, laying back. "It's okay. Yes. Let's do it."

"Really?" Sam grinned down at Kurt. "You'll love it. I promise."

"I..."

Sam dipped another kiss onto Kurt's lips before springing to his feet. "Music," he said. "You like music. Trust me, you'll relax, if we just have the right song... _ah_." Kurt watched, bemused, as Sam fiddled with his stereo. "How about the one you were sexing me up with at the rally?" A familiar beat flooded the room and Kurt covered his grin with one hand as Sam began mouthing the words of _For Your Entertainment, _sashaying toward the bed.

_Let's go it's my show, baby, do what I say _

_Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display _

_I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed _

_Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name_

"_Oh_!" Kurt sang out as Sam climbed back onto the bed in time with the chorus. "Do you know what you got into? Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?" He reached out for his lover, tugging Sam's jacket off and tossing it aside as Sam's hands gripped his shirt, pulling it over his head and tangling his arms in the cotton.

Kurt wrapped his legs around Sam's waist and rolled back, dragging Sam down with him. Sam grinned, shimmying out of his own shirt before leaning down to catch Kurt's mouth again.

Groaning, Kurt freed his hands from the wifebeater, shoving it aside (generic-brand cotton didn't get the same reverential treatment as the rest of Kurt's wardrobe) so he could reach for Sam again, digging his nails into Sam's back. Sam growled and bit Kurt's lip, tugging it out before releasing it in favor of Kurt's tempting neck.

Kurt dragged his hands down, sliding fingers into the loose waist of Sam's jeans, giving a breathy laugh as he felt bare skin. "Commando?"

"Thought you might like it," Sam grinned back. "Had a feeling your performance was going to be ridiculously obscene."

"Can't be overtly obscene," Kurt panted, flexing his shoulders and pressing up against Sam's mouth as he trailed it down teasingly. "Against cheerleading rules. Could get points knocked off the routine, or disqualified..."

"What do you call your dance today, then?" Sam demanded, reaching between them to pop open Kurt's fly, hands dipping into the smaller boy's underwear to grip his hard cock.

"Suggestive!" Kurt's answer was swallowed by a sharp gasp from the contact. How could Sam always do this to him? One touch, just one touch, and he melted completely, ready to do anything the blond wanted. Sex? No problem, not a problem, now, right now... He mewled his distress as Sam pulled his hands away, but the footballer only chuckled, leaning down to lick around Kurt's navel.

"Patience, baby. Did you paint these on?" He was trying to work Kurt's jeans down rather unsuccessfully. Kurt batted his hands away and rolled off the bed, gracefully catching himself on his feet and standing before his lover.

"There's a knack," Kurt informed Sam, hooking his thumbs in the waistband and giving an effortless shimmy, pulling the jeans down smoothly. Sam watched, licking his lips and tugging his own jeans free.

Kurt folded his jeans and dropped them carefully to the floor, growing uneasy as reality started creeping back in around the edges. He had agreed to sex. With Sam. Today. Now. Sam's touch was gone, and Kurt's wariness was rearing its ugly head. "I..."

"You're beautiful, baby," Sam said, reaching out, his fingers curling easily around Kurt's wrist, dragging him in close, back to his warmth. "So hot like this, naked and hard, all for me..."

Kurt let himself be pulled back to the bed, settling into Sam's lap. "I trust you," he whispered, reaching up to settle his palm against Sam's cheek.

Sam turned his face into the touch, kissing Kurt's hand. "I won't hurt you..."

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* * *

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It _did _hurt, in the end. Kurt lay in front of Sam, pressed up against his chest, his blankets wrapped around them both. Sam was kissing the back of his neck, fingers tracing reassuring circles over Kurt's sweaty stomach. Kurt shifted a little and winced at the twinge originating from his backside.

"You okay there, baby?" Sam asked, his voice husky.

Kurt closed his eyes and tugged the sheets closer to his chin. _Was _he okay? He was no longer a virgin, that was for sure, but he also... he felt empty. And not just because Sam had pulled out about five minutes ago, leaving Kurt with a hollow ache. "Don't know," he ended up whispering, opting for honesty.

Behind him, Kurt heard Sam sigh and shift, felt the mattress dip as Sam propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over him to kiss the corner of his mouth, all sweetness and caring. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I forgot it _does _hurt at first. But it'll get easier. Promise." He reached up, smoothing his fingers over Kurt's hair. "You were really getting into it at the end there..."

Kurt gave a tight little smile and a nod, not yet opening his eyes. He hadn't really gotten into it at _all_, faking almost all of his excitement. With Sam, he had learned that he liked things a bit rougher—bites and pinches and scratches were all unbelievable turn-ons—but the sex itself had very nearly killed his erection. Sam's fingers around him had kept him going after the first thrust, but even after Sam found his prostate, Kurt had just wanted it to be over. His body had been aroused, but his mind had been begging Sam to stop. Not wanting to disappoint his lover, Kurt said nothing. He just swallowed until the lump in his throat had diminished a little, and then opened his eyes to give Sam a tired smile. "Well. I think my room's properly christened..."

Sam chuckled, leaning down to kiss Kurt again, cupping his face in his hands and taking his time to really explore his boyfriend's mouth. Kurt sighed into the kiss, rolling onto his back and wrapping his arms around Sam's broad shoulders. Why couldn't their sex have been like their kisses? Kurt _liked _their kisses.

"So," Sam said, when he eventually broke away from Kurt's mouth. "My parents have gone to Aruba for a seventh honeymoon."

"Over Thanksgiving?" Kurt asked. The holiday was tomorrow, and school was out for a luxurious four-day weekend. The Cheerios' pep rally had been welcoming in the break.

Sam shrugged. "Go figure. They're weird like that. Their fifth honeymoon was over Easter." Kurt smiled a little, and Sam traced his finger around Kurt's lips. "They're gone all weekend. House to myself. You wanna come over?"

"I... not tomorrow," Kurt said with a shake of his head. "Thanksgiving, you know, for families and all. It's the first major holiday we'll be having as a family, the Hudsons and the Hummels together..."

"You had Halloween."

"Halloween doesn't count." Kurt sighed, closing his eyes. "You... I suppose you could probably come over here, if you're going to be alone for Thanksgiving. The turkey's big enough, and Dad and Finn'll probably just watch whatever game is the game guys always watch on Thanksgiving." Sam chuckled. "They all like you... and it's not fun to be alone on holidays."

"Sounds great," Sam said, leaning down to kiss Kurt again. "And then you can take me home tomorrow night, and we can take advantage of the empty house..."

Kurt nodded, reaching up to run his fingers through Sam's hair. "I'll have to take you home tonight, too. Finn'll lend me his truck. And tomorrow morning..."

"I still can't believe we all managed to squeeze in that thing," Sam marveled. "I can walk tomorrow morning. Don't worry."

"Wonders of modern engineering and design," Kurt replied. "And small hips." He smiled as Sam pressed their mouths together again, each kiss working wonders to soothe the ache inside Kurt's chest.


	12. Friendships

I apparently cannot go the two days between chapters of this fic without posting other stuff. Glee has made me unusually prolific, and I don't know why. But, yes, if you don't want to wait the two days either, I do have other gleefic on my account. /shameless self-plug.

For my non-American readers, Thanksgiving is always celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, and the day after is known as Black Friday, the official start of the Christmas shopping season. Stores have RIDICULOUS sales on ridiculously low-quantity items, open RIDICULOUSLY early (4 AM is not unheard of), and people STILL line up outside the shops, hoping to be first in. Black Friday is insane, and only die-hard shoppers dare to go out. A Wal-Mart store clerk was trampled to death not too many Black Fridays ago when he opened the doors for the morning. Yes. Black Friday is insane. You can understand why Mercedes assumes Kurt wants to go early-morning Black Friday shopping.

This is a ridiculously small point in this chapter, but I thought I'd mention it anyway.

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Friendship_

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Kurt was surprised to find another car in the driveway when he returned home, but he recognized it as Puck's. Rachel had left even before Sam did, talking excitedly about her Thanksgiving plans and how she really needed to get home to brine the turkey. Kurt just shook his head, rubbing his temples as he dropped Finn's keys off in his room and headed toward the basement.

His door was cracked open, something which made Kurt frown, but then he heard voices coming from downstairs. Finn and Puck. Finn never did figure out that you couldn't just swing the door shut and expect it to latch. You had to push it closed fully. But why were they in _his _room? Ah, wait, the video games were all in his room still. There was some sort of problem with the connection in Finn's room.

Kurt nudged the door open and stepped down onto the first stair, freezing when he could make out the words.

"-need to tell him."

"Like fuck we do. I'm not gonna be the one responsible for that drama."

"He'll find out anyway. Kurt's smart. He'll find out, and if he finds out we already knew, he'll probably rip off our balls or something."

Puck snorted disdainfully. "Little princess isn't getting his hands anywhere near _my _balls."

"You know what I mean. We should tell him. Now."

"Sectionals is in _two weeks._ He's got that big solo. If he pulls a Rachel and cracks up... it's not like we can just whip out a funk number to perk him back up and get him into fighting shape. We _need _his voice."

"We've got two weeks. We pulled off Sectionals in two _minutes _before. We can find someone else."

"Yeah, because taking away his solo after all of this _won't _make him leap off the nearest bridge."

"We should still tell him."

"Tell me what?" Kurt had been tempted to sit on the stairs and continue listening in hopes that the other boys would give more details as to what they were talking about, but it sounded like they had already moved past those details. Blunt was probably the best way with them now, so he crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, coming up behind them.

"Fuck, Princess!" Puck and Finn had both jumped at his voice, and their twin wide-eyed stares were definitely guilty. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Kurt snorted, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in his closet. "It's my room now, I can sneak however I want. Tell me _what_?"

Finn and Puck were staring at each other now, silently communicating. Puck shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Like hell it is." Kurt wasn't in any mood to play around. "Finn. Tell me what?" He turned to face his almost-brother, hands on his hips, giving him a _look _that he had learned would usually make Finn cave.

"Puck heard something disturbing," Finn blurted out. Puck punched him in the arm, and Finn looked sheepishly at him. "I told you he'd find out!"

"He _found out_ because you _told him_," Puck growled back.

"He _found out_," Kurt corrected, "because you two were talking about it in _his room_." And he had never been more grateful that he insisted on restoring his room to a pre-sex state before taking Sam home. He hadn't wanted anyone else in his family to come in and learn what he had just done from the messy bed and strewn-about clothing. "Now, are you going to tell me what it is, or will I have to resort to brute force?"

"Brute force?" Puck looked skeptical. "You? Don't make me laugh."

Kurt cocked his head to the side, looking over at Puck critically. "Excuse me? I'm the best kicker the football team's seen in years, and thanks to Cheerios, I can get my leg over my head... though my target in this case would be a lot lower." He let his eyes flick pointedly at the crotch of Puck's saggy pants (how could Puck stand such ill-fitting clothes!) for a moment. "Do you really want to doubt my ability to inflict pain?"

"Yeah, but... but you're too nice to kick us in the nuts," Finn said. "Right?"

Kurt sighed, setting his hands on the back of the couch and shifting his weight forward. He probably wouldn't be kicking anyone anywhere right now, not with the way the slight twinge had turned into a steady, low throb. Sitting in the car the entire drive to Sam's and back had not been good on his ass. "How about you two just tell me what you're talking about not telling me while sitting in my room without me?"

"All right, then." Puck twisted around, resting his arm along the back of the couch, on top of Kurt's fingers. "Tell me, Princess, have you let White fuck you yet?"

Kurt colored but kept his chin up. "For the fiftieth time, Puckerman, my sex life is _none of your business. _Finn. What were you talking about?"

Finn twisted awkwardly before giving Kurt a miserable look. "Your sex life."

"Seriously?" Kurt's expression was flat as he stared at Finn, trying to tease the truth out of the taller boy, but Finn's face showed nothing but earnest honesty. "Seriously."

"Your boytoy's a grade-A douchebag," Puck said.

Kurt sighed, closing his eyes and letting his chin drop. "If you're just going to be insulting, you might as well leave. I don't have to listen to this in my own room."

"It's not insulting if it's true," Finn said.

Kurt shook his head. "You can call me a faggot and it would be both true and insulting," he said. "And I won't let you insult Sam, especially not when he isn't here to defend himself."

"You were just at his place, right?" Puck asked, drumming his fingers on the back of the couch. Kurt could feel the muscles in his arm flexing over his fingers. "Did he try to get you into his bed?"

"_Why_," Kurt demanded, "are you so interested in what I've been up to with Sam?"

"Because," Puck answered, "I overheard him telling some of the other guys that he wasn't gay."

Kurt opened his eyes, frowning at Puck. "You overheard wrong, then."

"Not with these ears, babe," Puck said, pointing to his ear. "I heard right."

"Sam is my _boyfriend_," Kurt said. "I am his _boyfriend_. Having a _boyfriend _when you yourself are male is pretty much a dead giveaway that you're gay."

"Yeah?" Puck asked. "Then why was White bragging about how much sex he's gotten from you. Damn, Hummel, you should've heard what he was saying about that mouth of yours. Can you really tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue? Santana's the only one I've seen able to do that before, and the things _she _can do..." He gave a low whistle.

Kurt went absolutely crimson at the question, pressing his lips together tightly in a futile attempt to make his mouth disappear. "I... was bored a couple summers ago. Wanted to see if it was possible..."

"Let me tell you, the stories White was sharing were making _me _think twice about your mouth." Puck straightened up a little, his expression not teasing, for once. "Seriously, though, Hummel. _I _was getting into it, just hearing things on the other side of the lockers. Azimio and Donahue were positively drooling."

Kurt went rigid behind the sofa, digging his fingers into the white fabric. "Sam doesn't like those idiots..."

"White's apparently got some sort of bet on with them," Puck said, shaking his head. "Remember those tally marks we found a while back?" Kurt gave a mute nod. "Apparently, they're how many times he's gotten off on you. As long as he's got more marks with you than Azimio and Donahue've got with their Cheerios, they're not allowed to toss you in the dumpster or slushie your pretty face or anything like that."

Kurt was shaking his head again. "You're wrong. You must have misheard. Sam's not like that."

"He's got his place to himself this weekend," Puck said, tapping a finger against Kurt's arm. "He was telling them all about his plans to lure you over and pop your cherry."

_Too late for that... _Kurt looked helplessly at Finn, who just shrugged. "I don't know, dude. I wasn't there. But it sounds about right. I mean, he hasn't _ever _gotten pushed around for being a... for being gay. I get it worse than him, and I've got an actual girlfriend."

"His tally's up to twenty-three," Puck said. "I counted, after he left. Good going, Hummel. If you got off all twenty-three times, at least. It's only been, what, since September?" Kurt shot him a dirty look, but Puck continued on unrepentantly. "It's one mark for each time he's gotten off on you."

Kurt set his jaw, scowling at Puck. "And how many times have you bragged about who you've been sleeping with? I've been in those locker rooms. I know it's a guy thing to talk. And if he's keeping count... so what?"

"I also heard," Puck said, leaning in closer to Kurt's arms on the back of the chair, "that for all those twenty-three times you've sucked him off, he's never once even come close to returning the favor. Is _that _true?"

"It's not..." Kurt couldn't finish the sentence, letting his voice trail off. Sam never _had _reciprocated. Sam would touch and tease and could bring Kurt off with his hands and voice, sometimes rocking up against him... but he'd never so much as _kissed _below Kurt's waist.

"It's not gay," Puck said, "if he doesn't put your dick inside him anywhere. And it's not gay if he fucks you on your hands and knees, so he can't see the lack of tits. And it's not gay if he just focuses on your mouth and imagines Brit's body below your neck."

"Dude." Finn reached out, shoving Puck's arm. "Enough."

Kurt was squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head. "Shut up," he said, forcing himself to be calm. _Someday, even you will work for me, Noah Puckerman. _"Get out. Both of you, just get out of my room."

"Kurt..." Finn's fingers brushed against Kurt's arm, but he jerked it away.

"Get out!"

Finn scrambled to his feet, grabbing Puck's arm and dragging him along. "Sorry, Kurt, we just..."

"_Out_!" Kurt screamed, eyes flashing angrily as he pointed toward his door. Finn bolted, still firmly grasping Puck's arm.

Only after he heard the door click closed did Kurt let himself sink down to his knees, pressing his forehead against the back of the couch, his arms shaking in time with his breathing. It took him a good ten minutes before he had calmed down enough to fish his phone out, speed-dialed number 2, and put it to his ear, waiting for his girl's voice.

"_Kuuurt_." Mercedes sounded exasperated, and Kurt could hear the banging of pots and pans and laughter of many people in the background. "I _told _you I'd be busy all weekend! _I _will call _you _on Friday if I can make it out to some of those stupendous Black Friday sales."

"'Cedes," Kurt whispered. "Oh, 'Cedes..."

"Kurt?" Mercedes' voice was suddenly worried, and Kurt lifted a hand to bite his knuckle. If he closed his eyes, he could picture her beside him, reaching out a comforting hand. "What's wrong, Kurt?"

"I'm an idiot." Kurt sucked in a breath, hating how it sounded like a sob. "A blind, oblivious idiot."

"Oh Boo..." The background noises were quieter now—Mercedes must have moved out of the room. "Tell me?"


	13. Thanksgiving

We've reached the halfway point!

The most amazing friend, author, and artist a girl could ask for, Fox (LJ = fearfullt, = Fearful Little Thing) , has offered me an illustration for this fic. Several illustrations, actually. The first one is a fandom-favorite GreaseMonkey!Kurt, from Chapter 10 (when he's dancing to _Greased Lightnin'_). The second... well, the second will come later on in the story, for the scene it illustrates. No spoilers! I've seen the lineart for GreaseMonkey!Kurt, though, and let me tell you, that boy is _hot_. It should be ready by Thursday, when I put the next chapter up, so I'll include a link then!

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Thanksgiving_

_

* * *

._

Talking with Mercedes helped. Taking a shower helped. Sleeping helped. By the time Sam came over for Thanksgiving (Kurt couldn't _un_invite him—how rude would that be!), Kurt was feeling much more like himself. And when Sam showed up on his doorstep, offering Kurt a single orange rose before drawing him into a hug, Kurt closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in Sam's chest, soaking in the scent of wool and soap and _Sam._

"You okay?" Sam asked, his voice low as he rubbed his hand over Kurt's back. "Not hurting too much?"

Kurt opened his eyes, looking up at Sam. "I'm not walking funny, at least."

Sam smiled, brushing his fingers along Kurt's perfect bangs. "Your dad guess what we did?"

Kurt shook his head, half-closing his eyes. "Sam..."

Sam took the murmured name as an invitation, leaning down to catch Kurt's lips with his own, tongue flicking into Kurt's mouth. His hands moved to Kurt's shoulders, keeping him close, before sliding slowly down his arms and around, tucking around his waist. Kurt closed his eyes fully, sliding his arms around Sam's back, sighing into the kiss. How could he ever have thought Sam was just using him? Puck must have been mistaken. It could only have been a misunderstanding.

When Burt cleared his throat this time, Kurt didn't leap away from Sam, merely broke their liplock and gave him a dazzling smile. He turned to look at his dad, keeping his arms around his boyfriend. "Sam's here."

"I can see that," Burt said, giving Sam a nod. "Hey there. Kurt said your parents left you alone for the holiday."

"Yeah. Seventh honeymoon. They've celebrated every year since their wedding." Sam squeezed Kurt once more before releasing him, reaching out to shake Burt's hand. "Thanks for having me over, Mr. Hummel."

"Eh." Burt shrugged. "You're welcome over here any time, son. Come on in."

"I told Carole I'd help her with dinner today," Kurt said, looking up at Sam. "So you can either watch me cook or watch football without me."

"Uh... is this a test?"

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "Of course not. You'd just get in the way in the kitchen. Go on, have some fun. Holiday today, remember?"

"You're the best," Sam said, grabbing Kurt in a one-armed hug and kissing his hair. "I'll make it up to you tonight..."

Burt cleared his throat again, giving the pair a little frown. Sam's laugh was slightly nervous as he released Kurt. "Don't worry, sir. I'll behave."

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* * *

.

"Those boys and their football," Carole said, shaking her head as she stirred a pot. "I can't see what they see in it."

"Preaching to the choir," Kurt drawled, sitting on a stool and shredding a block of cheese into a bowl. "It wasn't even that much fun when I was _on _the team."

"And yet you're dating a football player," Carole teased.

Kurt shrugged. "What can I say, I like 'em big and strong..."

"Preaching to the choir," Carole said with a wink. "Ah, but Sam's adorable. Your dad and I both really like him."

"Really?" Kurt asked, looking up. "Dad too?"

"Yes, your dad too." Carole crossed past Kurt to pick up a bowl, ruffling his hair as she passed (and immediately smoothing it back down). "Finn's the only one who's not that keen on him."

"Really?" Kurt frowned a little, looking down at the cheese. "I thought he'd gotten over that..."

"So did I," Carole said, frowning along with him. "But just today, he was glaring at him in the living room. Did something happen at school? Football, maybe? Sam's not trying to become QB again, is he?"

"No..." Kurt bit his lip, picking strands of cheese off the grater. "He..."

It was like yesterday all over again. When Sam was holding him, touching him, kissing him, everything was right in Kurt's world. When Sam let go, Kurt spun wildly off-kilter, falling head-over-heels in the worst possible way. Kurt set the grater down and rested his elbows on the counter, sinking his head into his hands. "I think I messed up..."

"What?" Carole was immediately coming toward him, plucking the bowl of cheese away. "Sweetie, you can't mess up shredding cheese..." She was sitting beside him now, sliding her arm around his shoulders. "What's wrong, Kurt?"

Kurt couldn't help but turn into Carole's warmth. For all her acid-washed denim (she was stronger than Rachel, and Kurt could only make her over so much) and ridiculous moisturizing theories ('I use some hand cream when my hands feel really dry' indeed!), Carole radiated a maternal love that Kurt had just started getting used to living without. She wasn't _his _mother, but she was _a _mother, and her embrace was much more solid than the imaginary one when Kurt huddled against his mother's dresser. "Puck came over last night..."

"Noah's a good boy," Carole said, cradling Kurt in one arm, reaching up to smooth her hand over his hair with the other, his head tucked against her shoulder. "He's got a good heart. He's just a bit tactless sometimes. Blunt. Crude. Did he insult you?"

Kurt shook his head a little, curling his fingers in Carole's denim vest. "He... I think he was trying to look out for me, actually..."

"Oh?" Carole kept up her slow petting of Kurt's hair, not pushing him.

Kurt was quiet for a while, closing his eyes and letting the rhythm of Carole's fingers and her heartbeat soothe him. "He was telling Finn something he overheard in the locker rooms." Carole remained silent, but she did begin to rock Kurt, very slowly. "He said... he said Sam said he wasn't gay. That he was with me for some sort of bet, trying to get more sex from me than some of the others could get from their Cheerios."

"Oh sweetie..." Carole closed both arms around Kurt, squeezing him close.

"There's a tally on his football locker," Kurt whispered. "For all the times I've gotten him off. And Puck said he tells stories about it to the other jocks."

"Have you had sex with him?" Carole asked after a very long pause, and Kurt sucked in a breath before giving a short nod.

"Yesterday." His voice was barely audible. "And then I took him home, and then Puck came over and told me not to... but it was too late by then..."

"Oh Kurt." Carole held Kurt, kissing the top of his head and closing her eyes, resting her cheek on his hair.

"Don't tell Dad," Kurt murmured. "Please don't. I'm probably just... stressed out. With the rally yesterday and Sectionals coming up and then all this with Sam... Puck must have misheard. He wasn't actually _in _the conversation, just listening in. He must have missed something. Or maybe Sam was just shooting off his mouth to keep them from harassing him. Don't tell Dad. Let me talk to Sam first. I don't want Dad to overreact... like he did with Finn."

Carole sighed before giving a nod, rubbing Kurt's shoulders. "I'll keep quiet, for now, under one condition."

"Name it..."

"You keep talking to me." Carole reached up, smoothing her fingers over Kurt's cheek. "You let me know if things get better... or worse. Don't lock it up, Kurt. I know that's your usual method of coping, but don't do it with this, okay?"

Kurt gave a little nod, whispering an _okay_ into Carole's neck.

"Hey, do you have any more of that dip?" Burt came into the kitchen, holding an empty bowl. "Whoa! What's this? What's going on? Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt couldn't even lift his head. He was ashamed to hear the concern in his father's voice. His dad worried over him so much, and sometimes, Kurt felt like he just didn't deserve it. Asking his dad's girlfriend to lie to him about his son was just one of those ways.

"He's okay," Carole said, stroking Kurt's back. "It's just holiday blues. That pep rally thing he did yesterday with the Cheerios really drained him, and then we went and burnt the green bean casserole... but it'll be okay. We can scrape the top off, and it'll be fine. He just wanted everything to be perfect today."

"Kurt?" Burt was beside him now, resting his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kurt, you okay?"

He couldn't hide forever. Kurt reluctantly sat up straight, reaching up to quickly swipe under his eyes, making sure no tears had escaped. "I'm fine," he said, offering his dad a wavering smile. "Just... just tired. It's okay."

"Kurt... it's just a meal," Burt rubbed his thumb over Kurt's shoulder, pale eyes searching his son's face for any sign of a deeper hurt. "If the whole thing burns to a crisp and we resort to eating hot dogs roasted over a burner, it'll _still _be perfect, yeah? As long as you're happy. And we're all happy. The food doesn't matter. Food's just the icing on the cake here."

Kurt closed his eyes and gave a little nod. "Thanks," he whispered. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, kiddo." Burt squeezed Kurt's shoulder, still looking concerned. "You... want me in here? I can help... I don't know, make a pie or something? I don't need to watch the game..."

"No," Kurt said quickly, reaching up to pat Burt's hand. "No no, that's quite all right. We can handle the cooking. You're not allowed to make _anything_ anymore—he gave me food poisoning when I was eleven," Kurt explained to Carole. "Bad oil in the deep fryer."

"One of the darkest moments in my life," Burt said, shaking his head. "Of all the times I've been a bad parent, that was the worst."

Kurt smiled a little, slipping out of Carole and Burt's caring touches and to his feet. "I got better," he said. "And I'll get better from this too. Carole's right, the casserole's still salvageable. Let me just get you some more of that dip-"

"I can get the dip, sweetie," Carole said, getting to her feet as well. "Why don't you go wash your face with some cool water, and get some music we can dance to in here?" Kurt nodded, and as he left the room, he heard Burt and Carole murmuring to each other.

"It's not food..."

"No, it's not." Kurt paused just outside the door, listening intently. _You promised, Carole! _"He told me what's wrong... but I did say I wouldn't tell you."

"What? Why the hell not? He's my son, and he's hurt-"

"Burt..." Carole made a shushing sound, cutting off Burt's rant. "He loves you. And he doesn't want you to overreact. It's nothing... I know what it is, Burt, and it's not something you need to get involved in. Not right now. Kurt needs to figure this one out on his own."

"But-"

"Shh. I love that you love him so fiercely, Burt, but you can't fix everything for him. Kurt needs to learn how to fix things himself."

"He's only seventeen!"

"Practically an adult. Shh. I'm keeping this from you on the one condition that he doesn't keep things from me, Burt. Let me keep an eye on him for you. If things start going very badly, or if he closes himself up, I'll tell you what the problem is, but unless that happens, we should let him do things his way."


	14. Broken Hearts

As promised, the artwork of GreaseMonkey!Kurt, has drawn by Fox/Fearful Little Thing (on )/FearfulLT (on LJ): h t t p : / / i 2 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / y 6 / F a n t i s m a l S p i d e r / I l l u s t r a t i o n s / H T W G r e a s e M o n k e y K u r t b y F o x C o l o r . j p g. Again, this is for Chapter 10, where Kurt is dancing to _Greased Lightnin'_. If you like her art, she is more than happy to take requests! Also, you should check out her fics, because they are awesome.

Aaaand... I'm feeling lonely, so if any of you readers live in the SW MI area, give me a poke! I have absolutely no RL Gleek-mates, and it saddens me to no small extent.

Also, I realized that this fic was incorrectly rated T. It should've been rated M a long time ago, so I changed the rating even though there really are no further M-rated scenes. Ooops.

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Broken Hearts_

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Somehow, Kurt got through Thanksgiving without making things too awkward. Sam sat next to him during dinner, their legs pressed together under the table. Finn steadfastly refused to acknowledge Sam, but Burt and Carole managed to keep the conversation flowing easily.

The meal ended up cooked almost perfectly, though Carole scraped the top off the green bean casserole anyway, to give credence to the lie from earlier, and the biscuits were somewhat blackened on the bottom as well, but the turkey was delicious and hotdogs were not required.

After dinner, the Hudson-Hummels and Sam dug out board games. Carole won Monopoly, but Sam proved remarkably proficient at Pictionary, while Kurt racked up the most green apples in Apples to Apples.

Long after the sun had set, Kurt was walking Sam to the door of his house, his arm looped through the other's. "Come in?" Sam asked when they reached the door, turning to smooth the backs of his fingers across Kurt's cheek.

"I…" Part of Kurt's talk with Mercedes last night had been what to do if this happened, if Sam had tried to get Kurt into his bed this weekend—Kurt _hadn't _told her that Sam had already succeeded once. He hadn't wanted her to know he had already caved to Sam's charms. "All right."

The solution, Mercedes had pointed out, was obvious. Before Kurt let Sam fuck him, Sam needed to prove he was undeniably gay. According to Puck, Sam said it wasn't gay if he didn't blow Kurt. _Just make him suck your dick before you let him in your pants_, Mercedes had said, her voice oddly comforting even over the phone. And then she had said _No, Mom, I'm not sleeping with anyone!_, but Kurt knew that wasn't meant for him.

"You don't have to," Sam said, but even as he spoke, he had stepped closer to Kurt, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, hands resting loosely over Kurt's ass. He brushed their foreheads together, smiling softly at the smaller boy.

Kurt closed his eyes and rocked up onto his toes to kiss Sam, his fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of Sam's neck. "No… no, I want to."

"We can make out on the couch," Sam said, drawing away from Kurt to unlock the door and pull it open. "Like proper teenagers. Not confined to our rooms…"

"Heh…" Kurt gave a sheepish little smile as he followed Sam inside.

"And then," Sam said, turning to face Kurt as he walked backwards through his home, "I'll lay you down. You'll look so delicious, all spread out over the leather. It'll be perfect. I'll kiss my way down your spine as I take you from behind-"

"Ah…" Kurt frowned as Sam took his wrist, tugging him onto the chocolate brown leather couch that dominated the Whites' living room. "Sam, I…"

"What is it?" Sam asked, lifting Kurt's arm to his lips. He kissed the base of Kurt's palm, tugging his sleeve up before moving his mouth and biting gently into the flesh of Kurt's forearm.

Kurt closed his eyes with a shiver. This was Sam, Sam his boyfriend, Sam who would never hurt him, Sam who only wanted the best for him… Sam who, Mercedes had pointed out, would suck his cock if he really cared for Kurt. _Be strong._ "I'm… not feeling the best. Stressed and tired and stuff…"

"Sex is a great cure for stress," Sam pointed out, licking the marks from his teeth. Kurt swallowed, clenching his other hand on his knee.

"No, Sam, I don't want…"

"Shh…" Sam used his hold on Kurt's arm to tug him close, pulling him into his lap. "Shh, it's okay, baby. We don't have to. I'm sure there are other things we can do with this time…" He wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist again, working his fingers under Kurt's shirt to rub circles into the small of his back.

"Maybe…" Kurt shivered again as he felt Sam's fingers skim up the buttons on his shirt, popping the top few open so he could press his mouth against Kurt's chest. "Maybe we could…"

"Yes?" Sam asked, blowing lightly over the damp patch above Kurt's sternum.

"Your mouth," Kurt whispered, gripping Sam's shoulders tightly. "I want to feel your mouth…"

"Not a problem," Sam chuckled, laying Kurt back on the couch and moving over him. "You _like _my mouth." He tugged the rest of Kurt's shirt open with practiced ease, exposing his pale chest. Kurt shifted, spreading his legs so Sam could settle between them, giving a soft groan as Sam fastened his mouth over a nipple.

"Not there…" Kurt reached up, tugging on Sam's hair and giving a little roll of his hips. "Lower…"

"Lower?" Sam moved down, pressing his lips to Kurt's stomach. "Here?"

"_Lower_," Kurt pleaded, pressing his hips up against Sam's chest.

But Sam didn't go lower. He propped himself up a little, frowning at Kurt. "I don't know about that…"

"Why not?" Kurt asked, his blood running cold at Sam's denial. He opened his eyes, afraid of what he'd see, but Sam only seemed to be looking at him in concern.

"If you're not feeling well, we probably shouldn't." Sam said, rubbing his fingers over Kurt's stomach.

"Right," Kurt said dully. "Right. Of course not." He looked at Sam's fingers, their touch no longer comforting. "I'm going to… I'll just go home now…"

"You don't have to," Sam said, curling his fingers around Kurt's wrist. "You can stay; we can-"

"No," Kurt said, a little more firmly. "No, I'm going to go home."

"Kurt-"

"I don't feel well," Kurt whispered, pulling Sam's hand off his arm. "I… I really don't. I should probably go to bed… always get sick over holidays, you know. I should… go…"

Sam sighed, releasing Kurt's arm. "Okay. I'll call you? You going to get home in one piece?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Yeah, I'll be… fine. I'll be fine. I'll… see you later. Bye." He backed out of the room and fled Sam's house.

Kurt didn't remember the car ride home. He barely remembered stumbling out of Sam's house, tears blurring his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he had parked Finn's truck in their driveway, resting his forehead against the wheel.

"Kurt?"

Kurt jumped at Finn's voice, wincing as his hand smacked into the horn. "Finn!"

"I was gonna ask if you were okay," Finn said, blinking at him from beside the truck, "but I think the answer's 'no…'"

"Of course it isn't," Kurt said, more harshly than he had intended, swiping his fingers under his eyes. "I'mfine."

"Yeah. Because fine people sit in trucks for ten minutes. Crying."

"I am not crying…"

Finn looked skeptically at Kurt's face, where he was still wiping at his eyes, then went around the truck and climbed into the passenger's seat. "You… wanna talk about it?"

"No," Kurt mumbled, sinking his head back against the wheel. He tensed as Finn placed his hand tentatively on his back, taking in a shuddery breath. "I'm _not _crying."

"I know you're not," Finn said, patting Kurt's back with some hesitance. "You're being properly butch."

"Oh, shut up."

Finn did shut up for a while, though he kept his hand on Kurt's back. After a while, though, he couldn't help but speak up again. "You were at his house for a while. Did you two…"

"I wasn't there _that _long," Kurt muttered. Finn was silent again, and Kurt sighed. "He tried. I shot him down, okay? Puck was right. Sam's not gay."

"I'm really sorry, Kurt…"

Kurt shook his head. "Just tell me you didn't know sooner."

"I didn't know sooner," Finn said. "I mean, I thought it was weird that _I _was teased more than him for being faggy—sorry, you know I don't mean-"

"I know," Kurt sighed. "It's _okay_, Finn. It's harder to offend me than that."

"Yeah, 's long as I don't insult your clothes."

Kurt smiled a little, rolling his head to the side to look at Finn in the dark of the car. "Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here?"

"Uh… I live here?"

Kurt shook his head. "You know what I mean."

Finn sighed, shifting his hand up to ruffle Kurt's hair. "Mercedes texted me. Asked me to keep an eye on you."

"How nice," Kurt muttered, automatically smoothing his hair back down. "You're only out here because you were told to be."

"I didn't say that. It's just part of the reason I'm out here."

"What's the other part?"

"You're my little brother." Finn shrugged at Kurt's look. "I mean, it's only a matter of time until our parents get married and make it official, right? And I've always wanted a little brother."

"I'm not _that _much younger," Kurt protested.

"But you _are _smaller." Finn patted the top of Kurt's head with a grin. "And you're kinda like a little sister too, only not quite as annoying as Puck's, even if you do always want me to play dress-up with you."

"I don't play _dress-up_."

"You call it 'improving my wardrobe,' but it's the same thing."

"Your wardrobe _needs_ to be improved," Kurt muttered.

Finn smiled, shifting over on the bench seat, reaching for Kurt's far shoulder and tugging at him. Kurt tensed automatically, but forced himself to relax and move a little closer to Finn. "Look, dude, I know it sucks. I went through all this shit with Quinn, remember?"

Kurt gave a little nod, still sitting rather rigidly beside Finn. Last year, he would have been able to die happy in this position, but so much had changed since then. _Too _much.

"Did you break up with him?" Finn asked, keeping his arm around Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt shook his head. "Told him I didn't feel well and ran away like a coward."

"You're not a coward."

"I feel like one." Kurt pulled his legs up, tucking his knees against his chest, wincing as the position stretched sore muscles. "Feel like a complete idiot, too."

"Yeah," Finn said, patting Kurt's shoulder. "Yeah, I know how _that _goes."

"Did you ever… talk about Quinn?" Kurt asked. "To the other guys?"

"Well… yeah," Finn said. "Everyone does. But not, you know, not _details_. I mean… not that we ever did much. It _sucks _to have a pregnant girlfriend you never got to have sex with."

"You've got Rachel now," Kurt pointed out. "No pregnancy." He poked Finn in the side. "No pregnancy, right?"

"Oh hell no!" Finn said, shaking his head emphatically. "God, can you imagine Rachel all hormonal and junk?" He shuddered. "No… we haven't done anything like that. I don't want to risk it. Especially not if she goes all crazy and we break up. Again."

Kurt sighed, resting his head on Finn's shoulder. "How… how did you get over Quinn?"

Finn shrugged, rubbing his hand over Kurt's shoulder. "I dunno. Mr. Schu made me realize that you guys _needed _me at Sectionals, but… after that…" He sighed. "Remember that 'Hello' assignment? He had me sing to find out my new, after-Quinn self. I guess it worked. I felt a lot better after that."

"I don't much feel like singing any 'hello' songs," Kurt said, closing his eyes.

Finn sighed again and squeezed Kurt against his side. "Come on. Let's go inside, put on some soundtrack, and… and I'll let you put makeup on me." Kurt lifted his head a little, looking skeptically at Finn. The taller boy squirmed a little, meeting Kurt's eyes briefly. "But only that concealer stuff. To, you know, cover blemishes." Kurt raised an eyebrow, and Finn sighed. "But I'll let you moisturize the heck out of my face too."

"Are you really that worried for me?" Kurt asked softly.

Finn gestured at him with his free hand. "Dude, you're curled up in the front seat of my truck. Of course I am."

Kurt smiled a little, reaching out to catch Finn's hand and squeeze his fingers. "Thank you."


	15. Sue Sylvester

This is the chapter that really should have the Black Friday info from a few days ago. Oh well...

In my head, Kurt's grandmother funds his shopping. She gives the money to Burt who gives Kurt a budget he must adhere to.

And MICHIGAN GLEEKS! It looks like I may be attempting to arrange some sort of meet-up in Grand Rapids or Kalamazoo or something like that on a weekend. Poke me if you're at all interested, I guess...

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Sue Sylvester_

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Mercedes showed up a quarter after seven the next morning with two white chocolate iced frappes topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. "I know, I know," she said, pressing one into Kurt's hand as he opened the door. "We're getting started ridiculously late. You ready to go?"

"Mercedes…" Kurt looked at the drink in his hand with a pout, but Mercedes waved her free hand.

"You're gonna need the calories to get you through the day. Grab your wallet and let's go!" Kurt had to smile at Mercedes' enthusiasm, pausing to scrawl a quick note to let the rest of the family know where he had disappeared to before rushing out the door for a long day of Black Friday sales.

Sam texted once, around noon, and after Kurt replied with a completely fake _Still not feeling well. In bed havent even showered_ (to which Mercedes cackled), the pair went out to an extravagant lunch at Edo's Sushi House and resumed their shopping.

Carole raised an eyebrow at the amount of bags Kurt brought home that evening, but Burt just sighed, well accustomed to his son's belief in retail therapy. "You stayed in your budget?" he asked.

"He has a _budget_?" Finn asked, staring at the bags. "Kurt, your bags are bigger than you are!"

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. "It's the official start of the Christmas shopping season. This isn't _all _for me. But yes, actually, I did."

"You sure everything's okay?" Burt asked.

"I feel great," Kurt replied, offering his dad a big smile. "Absolutely perfect."

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* * *

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By Monday, though, Kurt's shopping high had faded away. Sam had called on Saturday, but Kurt had claimed to still not be feeling well. On Sunday, he told Sam that he was feeling quite a bit better but would probably spend the day at home resting anyway, just to make sure he would be feeling up to school.

"I feel sick," Kurt mumbled as he and Finn walked out of the parking lot.

"You want me to go with you?" Finn asked.

Kurt shook his head. "I don't need back-up to break up with my boyfriend. In fact, I'd rather not."

"At least you're doing it to his face," Finn said. "Shows you respect him. That's more than he's given you."

"I don't know," Kurt murmured, rubbing his fingers over his temple. "Maybe I should just talk to him? Give him a chance to explain?"

"You gotta do what you think is best," Finn said, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. "Text me if you need anything."

Kurt nodded, lifting a hand in farewell as Finn headed off toward his own locker. He'd just go grab his books for his first class before tracking down Sam…

"Ianto Jones." Coach Sylvester stopped Kurt's plans with one heavy hand to his shoulder. "My office. Now."

She apparently meant _now_, because she didn't lift her hand at all as she steered Kurt through the hall, the crowds parting before them. Her fingers were scarily close to Kurt's throat, so he didn't try to voice any protest or question, just in case she decided to turn homicidal. He did catch Artie's eye as he passed him and Tina, managing a little shrug to show he had no idea what was going on.

"Sit," Sylvester barked, pushing Kurt toward a chair and closing the door when they arrived. Kurt sat, setting his bag on his lap, staring up at his coach with worried eyes.

"Is everything all right, Coach?"

"Of course it is." Sylvester sat at her desk, folding her arms and staring levelly at the boy. "I just brought you here so we can gossip about the latest trends. _Of course _things aren't all right! Why else would I bother to waste my breath on one of you under-developed grubs?"

Kurt glanced around nervously, looking for some clue as to what was wrong. He wished Mercedes were here, or even Brittany or Santana. As long as he wasn't alone, he wasn't afraid of the fearsome coach. Being shut in her office without any witnesses, though, was almost always a recipe for disaster.

Coach Sylvester slapped a packet of papers down in front of Kurt. Hesitantly, he picked them up. "National Cheerleaders Associations Rulebook?" he read off the top. "Coach…"

"There's been a change. After last year's game-changing performance, in which yours truly conceived the idea of an epic recital of Celine Dion's greatest hits in French, the board of directors has grown afraid of difference. Vocal aspects are hereby banned from all future cheerleading tournaments."

"Oh…" And suddenly, her reason for bringing Kurt to her office made perfect sense. "You're cutting me…"

"Honestly, I'd rather cut the board," Sylvester growled. "Just because those other teams were too unimaginative to hunt down their own set of powerhouse pipes doesn't mean that I should be forced to change my ways. Mark my words, Hummel, those pompous pompoms will be begging to let me have free reign by the time I'm through with them."

"So… you _aren't_ cutting me?" Kurt frowned, trying to make sense of what Coach Sylvester was saying.

"I'm giving you an option," Sylvester replied. "You're a damn sight better as a Cheerio than as a member of that ridiculous _Glee _Club, but you're a lousy Cheerio. Every last one of my girls can cheer an octagon around you. But if you work your ass off to get yourself up to the standard I hold the rest of my Cheerios to, I will consider keeping you on as one of my prettyboys to appease the judges."

"How… thoughtful," Kurt murmured, looking down at the rules again. "And if I don't?"

"Then you're off the squad. Take your pick, Ladybug."

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed, setting the rules back on Coach Sylvester's desk. "Glee Club's Sectionals are coming up, and I have… a lot of drama going on in my life right now. I…"

"Hesitance is weakness," Sylvester said, slamming her hand on the desk. "And you started a sentence with _Glee Club _and didn't end it with _must be destroyed_. You're off the squad, Hummel!"

Kurt nodded, picking up his bag and rising to his feet. "I was just about to say that. Thank you, Coach, for giving me this chance. It's been fun."

"Get out of my office," Sylvester growled. "You disgust me…"

.

* * *

.

There was only one place of safety in McKinley High for the geeks of Glee Club. The choir room was _their _room, and after word got around that Mr. Schu had smashed one of Coach Sylvester's trophies in there, _in her face_, even the jocks left it alone. Hugging his notebook against his chest, Kurt hurried from Sylvester's office to the home of the Gleeks.

As usual, most of the Gleeks were sitting around, waiting for class to start. Puck and Finn were throwing a football back and forth, while Artie and Tina were surrounded by Mercedes, Quinn, and Rachel. "If he doesn't show up in five minutes, we should mount a rescue," Artie was saying as Kurt slipped inside. "Coach Sylvester looked like she wanted to murder someone."

Tina was nodding along. "You don't suppose she found out how you guys stole the Cheerios' song for your number, do you? She'd blame Kurt for that for sure!"

"It wasn't about the song," Kurt said. "And I haven't been murdered."

"What did Coach Sylvester want?" Tina asked as Mercedes quickly pulled up another chair beside her, patting it for Kurt.

Kurt sank into the chair gratefully, still clutching his notebook. Puck had caught the football and wandered over, trying to look disinterested. Finn wasn't bothering to try, leaning on the back of Artie's wheelchair. "You okay man?"

"I'm off the Cheerios," Kurt whispered, closing his eyes. "Vocal performances are banned from cheerleading tournaments now."

"What!" Rachel leapt to her feet. "They can't do that! That's discrimination! It's outrageous! How dare they be so prejudiced against lyrics when their entire existence is based on highly gymnastic dancing to music…"

"Rachel, it's okay," Kurt said, letting Quinn pry one of his hands off his notebook to give it a squeeze. "She actually gave me a chance to stay on as a proper Cheerio… but I didn't think I could reach that level of athleticism with Glee and everything… heck, I probably couldn't reach that level _ever_."

"Dude, you can kick your leg above your head. Don't sell yourself short," Puck said, tossing the football in his hands.

"Cheerios is harder than just a couple of high kicks," Quinn said, giving Puck a glare. "Don't belittle our... their hard work."

"It's more than I can handle right now," Kurt said, patting Quinn's hand. "I _know _how hard it is."

"What about Sam?" Finn asked. "You talk to him yet?"

Kurt shook his head. "Haven't had time. Coach Sylvester threw me for a loop."

"You _will _talk to him today, though, won't you?" Rachel asked, sitting down again.

"What's this about Sam?" Tina leaned toward Kurt, frowning a little. "Tell us!"

"Sam's a fucktard," Puck informed them. "He's been using Kurt."

"Using him?" Artie asked.

"Free sex," Puck said. "Kurt's a dude. He doesn't worry about stuff like getting pregnant."

"Can we _please _not talk about my sex life?" Kurt asked, covering his face with his hands. Mercedes reached over to hug him, tugging him sideways against her.

"Kurt, just because you don't have to worry about pregnancy doesn't mean there aren't plenty of other things you need to-"

"I _know_, Rachel," Kurt snapped. "I know all about safe sex, gay or straight, thank you very much."

"Are you still going to dump him?" Quinn asked, her hand now resting on Kurt's knee.

Kurt lowered his hands enough to look at her. "How did _you_ know?" Finn had told Rachel, Kurt figured, but Quinn?

"You didn't tell me not to tell her," Mercedes said. "And you've told her everything else, so…"

Kurt sighed. "I don't know. I was going to talk to him today, find out what's going on… maybe it's just a misunderstanding."

"I don't misunderstand things," Puck said, but Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes, and Artie all cut him off with a chorus of "Yes you do!"

Kurt just sighed again, shaking his head. "I really don't know _what _I'm going to do…" On the one hand… if Sam really _was _all that Puck claimed, Kurt would be better off dumping him and running far away. On the other hand… he wasn't a Cheerio anymore. That threw a wrench in all his plans for high school. No longer a Cheerio meant he was no longer at the top of the pecking order. He was now just the gay kid, a Gleek, and a hot footballer's boyfriend. Only the latter would keep him out of the dumpsters and out of the trajectory of slushies. "Sam's not… he doesn't _hurt _me…"

"Oh hell no!" Mercedes cried. "You aren't seriously thinking of keeping that sorry-ass excuse for a boyfriend around, are you?"

Kurt shrugged one shoulder helplessly. "If what Puck says _is _true, he's keeping the other jocks from throwing me in the dumpsters. I really don't relish the thought of becoming human garbage again."

"Dude, _we _can keep you out of the trash," Puck said, cracking his knuckles.

"You can't be everywhere," Kurt said dully. "Think about it, Puck. When _you _wanted to throw me in the dumpster, would you have let a bodyguard stop you?"

Puck scowled, finishing cracking his knuckles before letting his arms drop, the football set aside and ignored. "… no."

Kurt waved a hand at him. "There you have it. If Sam's keeping them off my back, I'd be stupid to get rid of him."

"If Sam's _using _you, Kurt, you'd be stupid to keep him around…"

"We don't know if he is."

Mercedes shook her head. "Boy, you said yourself, he didn't-"

"He also thought I was sick," Kurt interrupted quickly before Mercedes could give away too many details. "Thought I was in bed all weekend, remember? Maybe he really was just being considerate."

"Or maybe he was being a dick," Puck said. "Me 'n' Finn can get the truth out of him, Kurt. We'll corner him after fourth period and-"

"_No_," Kurt said emphatically. "No. No beating him up. He's still my boyfriend."

"But once you break up with him?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. No beating him up at all, okay? He's my boyfriend. _Mine_. I'll handle things."

"Whatever you say, dude," Puck said, shaking his head.


	16. Possession

The allergy Sam mentions is a real allergy... except he's got his facts wrong. But his description of how it feels is how one sufferer describes it.

.

.

* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Possession_

* * *

.

Of course, Puck didn't really care what Kurt had forbidden and what he hadn't. Kurt was a Gleek, and the only guys allowed to heckle the Gleeks were fellow Gleeks (ie Puck). Sam was most certainly _not _a Gleek, and just because he had an appreciation for Kurt singing and dancing around as a Cheerio did not make him an honorary Gleek. After fourth period, which was still before Kurt had had a chance to talk with Sam, Puck grabbed the other boy by the neck of his shirt and slammed him into the lockers. "What the fuck, White?" he hissed. "What are you playing at?"

Sam growled at Puck, reaching up to shove him off. "Fuck off, Puckerman! What's your problem!"

"You're fucking around with Hummel." Puck grabbed Sam's shirt again, refusing to let the other jock get away.

"Did you only _just _realize that?" Sam asked with a harsh laugh, grabbing Puck's wrist, squeezing tight enough to bruise. "We've been fucking around for _months_. Everyone else in the school knows."

Puck bared his teeth in a snarl. "Not what I meant. You're messing with his head, making him think you like him."

"I _do _like him," Sam retorted, digging blunt nails into Puck's wrist. "That's why I'm _dating _him."

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Puck didn't even notice the pain from Sam's nails. "You told half the team you just fake being gay to get laid!"

"You'd be surprised how many chicks try to get in your pants once you take your dick off the market," Sam said, grinning maniacally at Puck. "Trying to get you to 'change your mind.' And, of course, they don't half-ass things if they want to convince you that straight sex is the way to go…"

Puck twisted his hand in Sam's shirt, pulling it tighter. "You fucking _cheat _on him!"

"He didn't put out until last week," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "It's not _cheating._ I'm _dating _Kurt. I can't help it if other chicks throw themselves at me. What am I supposed to do, say _no_? It's not like I'm taking them out. Kurt's the only one getting the full treatment." He grabbed Puck's shirt himself, dragging the mohawked boy closer. "You'd do the same in my shoes. Admit it."

"Yeah, but here's the difference," Puck spat. "My chicks _know _I don't get tied down. Hummel's certain he's your one and only." He slammed Sam back into the lockers again before releasing him, sneering at the other jock. "You tell him, or I will."

"He won't believe you even if you do," Sam said, tugging his shirt straight. "He doesn't much like you. Flinging someone in a dumpster every morning isn't the best way to earn their trust."

"Where the hell do you think you get off on lecturing me!" Puck demanded, getting back into Sam's face.

Sam shoved Puck away again, scowling back at him. "Hummel's one fucked-up fag, Puckerman. He's already half-broken, and he knows there's no way in hell he's gonna get anything better than me in this town." He gave a half-laugh, looking Puck over. "If you actually 'care' as much as you're pretending to, you'll leave well enough alone. Let him think things are perfect with us. Who knows, I might even be able to fix some of his cracks."

Puck couldn't even find the words to express his disgust at Sam's words. Instead, he leaned back and hawked a loogie at the other jock, letting his spit speak for him.

.

* * *

.

"Hey there, gorgeous." Sam came up to Kurt at his locker after school, leaning against the locker beside him and smiling at the smaller boy. "How're you feeling?"

"Huh?" Kurt looked over at Sam, then quickly back into his locker, adjusting his books around the emergency scarf stashed there. "Oh, I'm... doing better. So much better."

"Glad to hear it," Sam said, stepping closer and draping his arm over Kurt's shoulders. Kurt closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Hey, could you tell your other boyfriend to back off?"

"What?" Kurt's eyes snapped open in shock. "_Other _boyfriend? I don't have another boyfriend..."

"Noah Puckerman," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "Got all up in my grill about something or other..."

Kurt groaned, holding his head. "I _told _him to leave you alone..."

"Did he tell you why he jumped me?"

"I... no," Kurt lied, shaking his head. "I have no idea."

"Shame," Sam said. "Could you tell him to back off anyway?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I... yeah. Sure. I'll ask Finn to tell him. Puck listens to Finn. Most of the time."

"Thanks." Sam caught Kurt's chin, turning his face and brushing a quick kiss against his lips. "Want to inspect all my ouches? I'm sure your mouth could make them feel all better..."

"No, that's..." Kurt closed his eyes against, biting the corner of his mouth. Sam frowned, drawing back.

"Kurt?"

With a sigh, Kurt looked up at Sam again. "Can we just talk? I need to ask you something..."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Yeah, sure. Come on. I know Schuester always scurries out of Spanish as soon as the bell rings. That room'll be empty."

Kurt let Sam link their arms together, finding the floor more fascinating than his muscular boyfriend as they headed into the foreign language hall, finally taking refuge in the Spanish room. Kurt slid into his usual seat, while Sam sat on the table beside him. "What's up, baby?"

"I..." Kurt studied his hands for a while, then looked up at Sam. "Remember, on Thursday? I... asked for your mouth?"

"Is that what this is about?" Sam asked, reaching down to cup the side of Kurt's face in one hand. "Kurt, I didn't want to do anything to make you sicker—and good thing, too, if you were in bed all weekend..."

Kurt gave a little shake of his head. "Sam, you've _never _gone down on me. I just... wanted to know why. I mean, how many times have I done that for you?"

"Kurt..." Sam sighed, leaning over to press a kiss to the other's forehead. "It's... it's kinda embarrassing, baby."

Kurt just folded his arms loosely and looked up at Sam. "So? I'm your boyfriend. You should be able to talk embarrassing with me."

"I can't," Sam said, with what sounded like an overly dramatic sigh. "I can't go down on you."

"If you've never done it before-"

"No, that's not it," Sam said. "I know you'd be very sweet about teaching me. And god, Kurt, your mouth's so hot. I can get hard just thinking about you sucking me-"

Kurt pushed Sam's hand away from his face. "That's very sweet of you, I'm sure, but you still haven't answered my question."

Sam gave another of those dramatic sighs that made Kurt frown inwardly. Why did he feel like he was being fed bad acting? "I have an allergy."

"An _allergy_?" Kurt raised an eyebrow skeptically. "To sucking cock?"

"To semen. If it gets in my mouth..." Sam shrugged. "It _hurts_, baby. Like a million hot needles stabbing into me, all at once."

"Ouch," Kurt said dryly, shutting his eyes for a moment. He was a born performer, able to channel his emotion into his acting. Right now, though, he needed to shut that emotion off, shut it off fast, before it could overwhelm him. "Well." He opened his eyes, his mouth a flat line. "Thank you for telling me. It's probably best if we just end things now."

"Wait, _what_?" Sam braced his hands on the edge of the table, leaning toward Kurt. "What do you mean, end things? I have an _allergy_, Kurt, it's not like I'm doing it to spite you or something... it doesn't change how I feel about you..."

"Oh really?" Kurt asked, shoving his chair back. "And how is that, Sam? You like me, right? Because I'm an easy lay?"

Sam's eyes widened slightly. "You _did _talk to Puckerman."

"He talked to me," Kurt said. "And you have done nothing but prove him right ever since." Anger. Anger he could use. Not the hurt. He had to bury the hurt.

Sam reached out, grabbing Kurt's wrist. "You can't dump me," he said. "No one breaks up with me. I break up with you. That's how it works."

Kurt tugged ineffectually on his wrist. "Looks like I beat you to the punch this time," he said. "Now let me go, Sam."

Sam just squeezed harder, making Kurt wince. "Oh no, Hummel. You don't get it. _No one_ dumps me."

For the first time in Sam's presence, Kurt felt a flicker of fear, and he yanked harder on his wrist. "Let me go!" His fingers were already starting to throb from Sam's grip cutting off circulation.

"So Puckerman talked to you," Sam said, sliding off the table and dragging Kurt closer. "So what? What if it's true? That enough of a reason to break up with me?"

"Yes!" Kurt swung his free fist at Sam's nose, but Sam caught his sorry excuse for a punch in his other hand, yanking it down.

"Hummel, you don't realize how good you've got it here. You're a fucking flaming _faggot_. Nobody'd believe you were straight if you _tried, _but you're not trying, are you? No... why be normal when you can be _fabulous_?" Sam's mouth was curved in a something of a soothing smile as Kurt struggled vainly to free his arms. "People get _killed _for being so out and proud. Especially in Bible-thumping hickvilles like Lima. Trust me. I've been around. I know."

Kurt stilled at the word _killed_, his heart pounding in his throat. Oh, he knew it was possible. It was occasionally (rarely) on the news, this kid or that one beaten to death for being gay, but not in Lima. In Lima, the worse Kurt got were the bullies at school, the vaguely threatening phone calls, or vandalism to the house.

"Shh, baby," Sam murmured, shifting both of Kurt's wrists into one of his hands, stepping close to smooth his fingers over Kurt's cheek. Kurt swallowed past the bile rising in his throat, staring fearfully back at the jock. "I don't want to see you dead. I _do _like you. You're pretty, and you're fierce, and you have the most amazing body... for a guy. I'm not threatening you. I'm merely giving you a warning." He tipped Kurt's chin up with two fingers, brushing his lips over Kurt's unresponsive mouth. "You break up with me, and the bullying will start again. The harassment. You'll end up in the dumpster again. And you know if the bullying starts at school, it'll get worse around town, too. Phone calls. Eggs. Graffitti. Bricks'll be thrown through your windows. You think the Hudsons will want to stick around through that dramafest? Will Carole really think your dad is worth all the baggage that comes along with you? She hasn't seen any of the bad, has she? Not much of it." Sam pressed his thumb to Kurt's mouth, parting his lips. "If you won't think of yourself, Kurt, think of your dad. At least, with me, most of that crap is nipped in the bud. You don't get heckled at school, and they hardly ever bother you at home. Wouldn't your dad prefer things that way? Don't you want to make his life easier? You know how hard it must be for him, having a gay son he can't really relate to. At least this way, you're doing what you can to make his life easier..."

Kurt closed his eyes, his heart constricting as it always did when he thought about his father's struggles. If Kurt had been someone like Finn, Burt's life would have been so much easier, so much _happier_. And... and damn Sam, for knowing all his buttons! "Finn knows about you," Kurt whispered as Sam stroked his mouth with his thumb. "About what you've been doing. Puck told him."

"So?" Sam asked.

"He wants me to dump you. All my friends do."

"So?" Sam asked again. He released Kurt's wrists, wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist and holding him close. Kurt didn't struggle. "Why do they matter?"

"They _matter_ because they're my _friends_," Kurt said, opening his eyes to glare at Sam. "Because I value their opinions. Because they're trying to look out for me. Unlike _you_."

"Such a little spitfire," Sam said with a chuckle. "Look, Kurt, baby, here's my proposal. You stay my boyfriend." He kissed Kurt's forehead, drawing a wince from the smaller boy. "I'll keep you safe from the bullies. I'll be the perfect boyfriend. I'll take you out to dinners, movies, those theatre shows you love so much. I'll go shopping with you, give you rides... anything you want." He brushed Kurt's bangs back, smiling down at him. "I won't even fuck around with anyone else. You'll be my one and only. And in return? You be my one. You put out when I want it."

Kurt blanched, and Sam just rolled his eyes with a disgusted sound. "Don't be such a _girl_, Hummel. It's nothing you haven't already given me."

"I..."

Sam reached up, cupping Kurt's face in both hands and pressing another kiss to his mouth. "You do this for me, gorgeous, and I _promise _you, I will never again give you a reason to be scared, not of me, not of my teammates, not of anything here at school. And you're gonna need that protection, especially now that you don't have your sexy Cheerios uniform to keep you safe."

"My friends..."

"I'll be a changed man," Sam said. "They'll see that I'll be bending over backwards to deserve you. It'll work out."

"I..."

"Think about it." Sam kissed Kurt's forehead, then released him, taking a step back. "Sleep on it. Let me know tomorrow if it's over." He smiled at Kurt, not one of his dazzling Apollo-grins, but something soft and sad. "I hope... I hope it's not." He turned, leaving Kurt standing alone in the Spanish room, holding his throbbing wrist, horribly confused.


	17. Comfort

August 22, 2010, just after noon outside of Barnes and Noble at the Rivertown Crossings Mall in Grand Rapids, we will have a meet up of Gleeks! Right now, we number... two. Oh well. Two of us can have fun! If you want to join, just poke me before hand and I'll get you my number so we don't miss each other!

.

.

* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Comfort_

* * *

.

The buzzing of Kurt's phone, signaling an incoming text, startled Kurt out of his funk. He reached into his pocket and hissed in pain, drawing his arm back. His wrist was already turning black and blue from the pressure of Sam's fingers. Kurt grimaced, digging awkwardly into his right pocket with his left hand. Finn.

_Where r u_!

Right. Finn was waiting for Kurt in the parking lot, to give him a ride home after talking to Sam. School had been out for a good twenty five minutes already. Finn was awfully patient to wait that long before sending a text. Judging from the exclamation point, though, he was worried. Or his finger slipped.

Awkwardly, one-handedly, Kurt typed out a quick reply (_Coming sorry_) and picked up his bag, holding his right arm stiffly against his stomach as he left the room.

Finn was in his truck, feet kicked up on the passenger seat, leaning against the door as he fiddled with his phone. He looked up when Kurt opened the door, his grin dropping too quickly.

"Don't ask," Kurt mumbled, climbing into the truck after Finn had moved his feet.

"You look like shit. Like dead shit. Is something wrong with your arm?"

"I told you not to ask." Kurt buckled his seat belt and set his bag in his lap, hunching over the soft leather. "Just take me home. Please."

"Didja dump him, at least?"

Kurt sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I tried."

"Tried!"

"He apologized, begged me not to leave him. Please, can we just go home?"

"Are you still together?"

"I don't know," Kurt whispered. "I honestly don't know. Finn, _please._"

Finn blew out a breath, raking his fingers through his hair, then reached over, handing Kurt his phone. "Read my last texts with Puck," he said as he turned the key in the ignition, putting the truck in gear.

Kurt fumbled with Finn's phone with one hand, scrolling back through the most recent conversation.

_You n me tonite_

_Gonna fuck up white_

**Y?**

_Had a litle chat w him b4 lunch_

_Fuckers fucking chicks_

_Pcss there?_

"Pcss?" Kurt asked.

"Princess," Finn said. "You know, what he calls you."

"Just because I like tiaras doesn't make me a girl," Kurt muttered, looking back at the phone.

**Hes talkin 2 white now**

_I told that shit to come clean to him_

_If he doesnt tell hummel im gonna_

**Wat time 2nite**

_9?_

**Sonds gud**

"Your spelling is atrocious," Kurt said, closing his eyes.

"Uh... I meant, you know, read the words, not criticize my texting. Sam's been cheating on you." Finn glanced over at Kurt as they drove. "With _girls_."

"You know," Kurt said, sliding Finn's phone shut and handing it back. "I actually figured that out myself, when he promised he'd stop fucking around with anyone else if I only didn't dump him."

"Do you believe him?" Finn asked.

Kurt was quiet, cupping his left hand over his sore wrist as he stared out the window. "I think so," he finally said. Sam _had _felt honest... and what would be the point of fucking around with others if he could have Kurt whenever he wanted. "Look, Finn... don't beat up Sam, okay? I need... need to process things. Just leave him alone? Please?"

"Kurt..." Finn's eyes flicked down to Kurt's arm. "But he hurt you!"

"It was an accident," Kurt insisted.

"Pretty bad accident."

"Accidents can be."

"_Kurt_."

"He didn't mean to!" Kurt closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Look, Finn, just drop it. And leave him alone. I'm handling things."

"No offense, but it looks like you're doing a real crap job of it."

"Thanks ever so much," Kurt said bitterly. "Just trust me, Finn."

Thankfully, Finn pulled into their driveway then, quickly getting out of the car and heading for the front door. Kurt followed more slowly, grateful Finn had left the door open for him. Burt and Carole were still at work. Kurt started for his room, but Finn called to him from the kitchen. "C'mere."

"What now?" Kurt asked, trudging into the kitchen. Finn was putting some ice cubes in a ziploc bag, which he wrapped in a towel and offered to Kurt.

"Put that on your arm. I'll be right back with a wrap."

Kurt wordlessly accepted the makeshift icepack and went to sit down on one of the stools, dropping his bag to the ground. Finn was back in a few minutes with an elastic bandage, pulling one of the stools close and reaching out for Kurt's arm. "Lemme see it. Do you think it's broken?"

"No," Kurt said quietly, setting the ice aside and holding out his discolored wrist. "Just bruised and tender."

Finn cradled Kurt's wrist carefully in his big hand, frowning as he looked at the bruises. "Did he grab you?"

"I tried to storm out," Kurt said. "Rachel does theatrical diva-huff-offs better."

"He _grabbed _you." Finn was scowling as he started to wrap Kurt's wrist. "Keep your arm still. He shouldn't have done that. Tell me if this is too tight."

"It's fine," Kurt said, watching Finn's hands rather than his face, his voice tight from the pain. "Finn, he didn't mean to grab me as hard as he did. Honestly. He apologized." Except he hadn't, really. He just promised it wouldn't happen again.

"Still." Finn didn't look happy as he secured the bandage and replaced the ice on Kurt's wrist. "Don't move it too much, keep the ice on it as long as you can stand it. I'll get you some aspirin. Keep it up, too, above your heart."

Kurt lifted his arm, holding the ice in place with his other hand. "Thank you, Finn."

"No problem," Finn replied. "I do that for my bruises all the time, from sports and stuff." He popped open the aspirin bottle and offered Kurt some pills. "Lemme get you some water."

"Finn?" Kurt had to set the ice aside to take the glass of water Finn offered him, taking a sip before tossing back the pills and drinking the rest of the glass.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Dad." Kurt closed his eyes, hanging his head. "He'll just overreact. He doesn't need this. Please. I'll just... I'll tell him I hit my wrist on my desk."

Finn sighed. "What am I supposed to say if he asks why you're all..." He gestured at Kurt, struggling for the right words. "Slumpy and grey?"

"I don't know." Kurt rubbed his good hand over his face. "Tell him... you can tell him I got kicked off Cheerios. That should be enough. And it's true."

"Okay," Finn said after a while. "But if he finds out, I'll tell him you told me to lie."

"Just don't be the reason he finds out," Kurt said, slipping off the stool and picking up his bag. "I'll... be in my room. I don't think I'll be joining you for dinner tonight."

.

* * *

.

Kurt locked himself away in his room for most of the evening, turning his _Wicked_ soundtrack up loud enough to be heard even with his door shut. When Carole and Burt came home, Finn mentioned that Kurt had been kicked off the Cheerios and hurt his wrist before quickly making some excuse about homework to keep them from interrogating him further.

Both Burt and Carole tried knocking at Kurt's door at various points, but Kurt refused to unlock it for either of them. Though concerned, they didn't push things. Kurt would return to them when he was ready.

That night, when Burt was settled in front of the tv to watch _Deadliest Catch_, he heard Kurt's music shut off. After a few minutes, there was the soft pad of bare feet entering the room. Without looking toward the door, Burt shifted, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch, making room beside him. Kurt climbed onto the far end of the couch and crawled up to settle against his dad's side, Burt's arm dropping to wrap around him after Kurt made himself comfortable. His hand met the soft fluff of flannel instead of Kurt's usual fancy silks or whatever the shiny stuff was. Burt looked down at Kurt, frowning a little. Plaid flannel pajamas that looked suspiciously like some of Burt's own. "Finn told us you had a bad day," he said at the commercial break. "Told us what happened."

Kurt gave a little nod, eyes fixed on the flickering image on the tv Burt rubbed Kurt's arm and squeezed him close. His boy looked like hell warmed over, all the makeup washed from his face, his hair damp around the edges and mildly tousled, an elastic bandage around his wrist, like Finn had said. This was Kurt in a rare state between perfect for the day and getting ready for bed, a Kurt that looked somehow more real and solid and hurting than his fashion-forward son usually was. Burt leaned over, resting his cheek against Kurt's hair.

When they were both younger, Kurt would often fall asleep like this, curled up with Burt while they watched some show or another. Burt would sit as still as he could so as not to disturb the sleeping child in his arms. There was something completely humbling about Kurt to Burt, something about his scent and presence, the warm, content trust that Kurt only really showed around him. Giving Kurt food poisoning might have been one of the lowest points of his parenting career, but holding Kurt at night had always been one of the highest. He had taken pride in knowing that Kurt trusted him enough to fall asleep against his chest, taken comfort from his son's continued love after his wife died.

Kurt was still small for his age, but he didn't fit into Burt's lap anymore. And as he had grown, he stopped curling up with his dad before bed. The years Kurt was in middle school had been the loneliest in Burt's memory.

Things hadn't been magically fixed when Kurt became a freshman at McKinley High, but his boy had started making an effort to reconnect, and Burt responded as best he could. Things were getting better, but it still had been years since Kurt last sought him out on the couch.

"You wanna talk about it?" Burt asked as the commercial for insurance turned into an ad for Time Warner Cable.

Kurt shook his head mutely, his hair brushing against Burt's cheek, and Burt nodded back. "Okay. You just let me know if you change your mind." As the cable spot ended, Burt added, "I love you, Kurt."

Kurt waited until _Deadliest Catch_ had resumed before replying so quietly that Burt nearly missed it. "Love you too, Daddy."

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* * *

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The call came just midnight, the shrill ringing of the phone waking up three of the four Hudson-Hummels (Finn could and did sleep through everything). Burt fumbled around beside the bed, yanking the portable phone to his face with a growled "_What?_" as Carole grumbled and shifted against his chest.

There was only raspy breathing on the other end of the line, and just when Burt was about to hang up in disgust, the caller spoke, his voice rumbling and unfamiliar.

"Your faggot kid's gonna burn in hell."

"There's a special circle of hell for cowards!" Burt shouted back as the line went dead, and then a second click of another phone being hung up. He sat up and flung the handset across the room, the _crack _as it hit the wall somewhat satisfying.

"Burt?" Carole was propping herself up in the bed behind him. In the dark of their bedroom, Burt could just barely make out the concern on her face. "Who was that?"

Burt sank his face into his hands, trying to quash his anger. He didn't need to take it out on Carole. It wasn't even the phone's fault, so he shouldn't have thrown it. "Some idiot."

"Burt...?"

Burt sighed, turning to look as his lover. "Anonymous calls. Harassing Kurt."

"At midnight?" Carole covered a yawn as she squinted at the red LED clock across the room. "Well. At least he didn't answer it." She lay back down, plumping up the pillow beneath her head, clearly deciding that this wasn't something to worry about at the moment.

"... Fuck." Burt pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his robe.

"Burt?"

"He _did _answer it," Burt said, tying the sash around his waist. "Someone _else _hung up, after that bastard did. Must've been someone inside the house. Kurt or Finn. Kurt wakes up at the drop of a pin."

Carole needed no more words, slipping out of the other side of the bed and gathering up her own robe.

"You don't need to get up," Burt said. "I'll just go check on him..."

"You're not the only one who loves him here," Carole answered with a little smile, sliding her slippers on. "I'll go with you."

The pair checked on Finn briefly, but Finn was stretched out across his bed on his stomach, arms and legs akimbo, snoring lightly. He certainly hadn't been the other one to answer the phone. That left only Kurt.

Burt wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting when he and Carole quietly made their way down the stairs into Kurt's basement lair. Kurt was curled up in his bed, a tight little lump under the blankets, a pillow hugged close. His bandaged wrist was resting on the pillow beside his face, but his eyes were closed and he looked, at first glance, to be asleep. Of course, in the near-pitch-blackness of Kurt's room, it was hard to tell. The phone on his bedside table looked untouched, but Burt wasn't fooled. "I know you're faking," he murmured, coming up to the edge of Kurt's bed. "You always wake up when I come down here."

Kurt didn't stir, but Burt thought he saw his eyelids twitch a little at his words. Burt heaved another sigh, reaching out to touch Kurt's fingers. He could feel a faint tremor—Kurt was shaking—and a fresh wave of rage rushed through him. How dare those anonymous fuckweasels hurt his son! Kurt had never done anything to anyone to deserve to be scared in his own home.

Burt covered Kurt's shaking fingers with one hand and smoothed his hair back with the other, leaning down to kiss his boy's cheek. "I love you, Kurt," he whispered fiercely. "And you are _amazing_. Don't let those jackasses bring you down. You are so far above and beyond _all _of them."

Kurt was still steadfastly refusing to acknowledge his father's presence, and there was little else Burt could do. He moved away when Carole stepped up, watching as she took his place by Kurt's side, her hand light on his shoulder. "You're not alone here, Kurt," she murmured. "There will always be people trying to push you down, but we'll always be here to lift you right back up." She leaned in to press her own kiss to Kurt's cheek, tasting the salt of fresh tears.

"If you need us tonight," Burt said, after several minutes of just standing and watching Kurt pretend to sleep, "you know where to find us." He brushed his fingers over Kurt's again and sighed. "Try to get some sleep, kiddo. You'll feel better in the morning."

Kurt waited until he couldn't hear their footsteps before finally sucking in a sobbing breath, curling up even tighter and pressing his face into his pillow. The phone calls hadn't stopped with dating Sam—Sam couldn't control the whole city, after all—but they usually came when Burt and Carole were at work. Kurt wasn't sure how many calls his dad fielded at the garage, but he was pretty sure this was the first time Carole had been around for one. Sam was right. His dad and Carole and Finn didn't deserve the fallout from all the gay-bashing he suffered through. Anything he could do to lessen their suffering would be worth it. Even if that meant keeping Sam around. His wrist throbbed at the mere _thought _of being close to Sam again, but... his father, his _family _was more important to him than his pride. And Sam _had _promised Kurt wouldn't have any reason to fear him again. It would only have to last until Kurt could get out of Lima. Once he went to college, he could dump Sam and start fresh. Yes. Not even two full years. It could be worth it...


	18. Apologies

There is a song featured in this chapter, and you can listen to it here: youtube .com/watch?v=iEivAFDV0ic&feature=related

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Apologies_

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Finn refused to let Kurt out of his sight from the moment they arrived at McKinley High the next morning, following him to his locker and pressuring Kurt to come with him to his own locker, where Puck was waiting.

"'Sup," Puck said with a nod to the two of them. "Hummel, what the fuck? White's in dire need of an ass-kicking. Why'd you stop us last night?"

"He's still my boyfriend," Kurt said, scanning the hall instead of looking at Puck. "And he's stopping people from beating me up. Least I can do is return the favor."

Puck gave a snort of derision. "What favor? The shithead's screwing you over every way he can. And Finn said he busted your wrist."

Kurt shifted, tucking his bandaged wrist between his notebook and chest self-consciously. "It's not 'busted,' just sprained. I'll heal."

"Your hand's gonna be green in time for Sectionals," Puck said. "Not very attractive for our opening soloist."

"No one will notice my hand," Kurt said. "If I can't cover it, Tina'll be able to. She can work magic with makeup."

"Just don't let him hurt you more when you break up with him properly," Finn said, closing his locker and looking down at Kurt. "You _are _going to break up with him properly, right? This time, Puck and I'll go with you. We'll stand outside the door or whatever, so you just have to shout if he tries to hurt you."

"I told you," Kurt snapped. "He didn't mean to. And... and no. I'm not going to break up with him."

"_What_! Princess, have you been huffing your hairspray?"

"It's called 'second chances,'" Kurt said, sparing Puck a glance. "Maybe you've heard of those?" He shook his head, shifting his notebooks in his arms. "I want to go to the choir room. Do I need an escort there, or am I big enough to go on my own?"

"We'll go too," Finn said, stepping up to Kurt's right side. Puck nodded, falling into place just to Kurt's left. Kurt rolled his eyes but voiced no protest as he headed down the hall.

The topic of discussion in the choir room turned out to be a bouquet of orange roses and an unlabeled cd sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.

"It's totally for Miss Pillsbury," Brittany said, sniffing the roses. "They match her hair."

"But Schu wouldn't just leave them sitting in the middle of the room," Santana pointed out from her perch on top of the closed piano, beside the cd player.

"Is it a secret admirer for one of us?" Rachel asked, but Quinn just rolled her eyes.

"They're not for _you_, clearly. Unless that freak Israel has decided to get classy. Finn wouldn't think of doing something like that."

Santana shrugged, holding out her hand. "Pass the disc. Whatever's on it could give us a hint."

"On what?" Puck asked as the three boys entered the room. "Dude, why does it smell funky in here?"

"Roses," Quinn said, pointing to the bouquet. "Fifteen orange roses."

"Fifteen is the number for an apology," Rachel said with a nod. "Different numbers mean different things, just like the different colors do. Orange means passion and excitement."

"Orange...?" Kurt bit his lip. "Was there a note?"

"Oh?" Santana lifted an eyebrow. "Are you hiding something from us, Kurt Hummel?"

"Sam's given me an orange rose before," Kurt said, setting his notebooks in an empty chair and going over to pick up the bouquet. "And orange is his favorite color."

"Sam owes you an apology," Finn pointed out, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders.

"A bunch of flowers isn't an apology," Puck grumbled, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

Kurt took a sniff of the roses, closing his eyes. "What's on the cd?"

"We were just about to listen to it," Santana said, popping the disc into the player. "Hm. Only one song." She pressed play, starting to swing her legs in time to the percussive beat that started up.

"I know this song..." Brittany mused, staring off into space.

"Isn't this from _Kill Bill?" _Puck rolled his eyes. "Way to go, Hummel. Your boyfriend wants you dead."

"Shush," Kurt said, waving the flowers at Puck. "Just listen..." The lyrics were starting.

_Baby, do you understand me now?_

_Sometimes I feel a little mad_

_But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel _

_When things go wrong I seem to be bad_

_._

_I'm just a soul whose intentions are good_

_Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood_

_._

_If I seem edgy _

_I want you to know_

_That I never meant to take it out on you_

_Life has its problems_

_And I got my share_

_And that's one thing I never meant to do_

_'Cause I love you_

.

_Baby, don't you know I'm just human_

_And I've got thoughts like any other man_

_And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting_

_Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done_

"Sounds like an apology to me," Quinn commented, her foot tapping to the beat.

"How _romantic_," Rachel sighed, clasping her hands together. "He bought you the right number of roses _and _offered you the perfect song to express his feelings-"

"And he busted Kurt's wrist!" Finn protested, yanking one hand from his pocket to gesture at Kurt.

"It's just bruised," Kurt said, shaking his head. "And it was an accident..."

"Hence the rapid apology!" Rachel's eyes were sparkling. "Oh Finn, you simply must remember this should we ever have a misunderstanding!"

"Is it hurt badly?" Quinn asked, looking over at Kurt with concern in her eyes.

"Just bruised," Kurt repeated.

"He can't move it," Finn said, sulking by the piano.

"I can too," Kurt said, lifting his hand and flexing his fingers to demonstrate. "It's just sore. It'll be fine."

"I heard a rumor that you were thinking about breaking up with Sam." Santana drummed her nails against the piano. "Is that true?"

"I..."

"White's a dickwad," Puck sneered from the door. "He's totally using Hummel for sex. Or have you managed to miss that in your gossip rounds?"

"Look. Here's how things go." Santana ignored Puck, looking at Kurt as she lifted her hands, counting points off on her fingers. "One. He's hot. We're talking super-mega-fine. Half the Cheerios have been humping against his legs, trying to yank him away from you. Two. He's _gay _and _out_. How many of those do you know around here, hmm? Three. He's a jock. Four. He apologizes with roses _and _music, before you even have to tell him he did wrong." She shrugged, spreading her hands. "You're not going to find any better around here, especially now that you've been ousted from the Cheerios. Keep him around and milk everything you can from him before he moves on to greener pastures."

Brittney nodded her agreement, reaching out to snag Kurt's bouquet and taking another sniff of the roses. "Totally. That's what we'd do. Not that we tried to get Sam. He's _your_ boo."

"I'm not going to break up with him," Kurt said when the song finally ended. "He deserves a second chance."

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* * *

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Sam caught up with Kurt just before lunch—neither Puck nor Finn shared Kurt's fourth-period class with him, so he had no bodyguards as he left the science lab. "Kurt!"

Kurt stopped walking, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together at the sound of Sam's voice. Not too long ago, hearing his name like that would have made him melt on the spot, but now... now he was only too aware of the ache in his wrist, a physical counterpoint to the one in his heart. "Sam," he said after a moment, turning smoothly and opening his eyes. "There you are."

"Did you get my apology this morning?" Sam asked, reaching up to touch Kurt's cheek. Kurt flinched automatically, but he forced himself not to pull away. "The roses and the cd? I know you always go to the choir room, but... I just felt weird waiting there myself. It's kinda your place, you know?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "Yes, I got them. Thank you. The flowers were lovely, and... and the song was appropriate."

"I saw you've been wearing a wrap." Sam trailed his hand down Kurt's right arm, catching it just below his wrist and lifting it before lightly kissing his knuckles. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I hurt you that badly..."

"It's just bruised," Kurt said. "Finn's being overprotective, that's all..."

"Did you think about my offer?" Sam asked. "Or are you still going to break up with me?"

Kurt closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. This was it, then. "Your offer... is very reasonable. I won't... I won't break up with you."

"_Thank you_, Kurt," Sam breathed, folding his arms around Kurt and hugging him close. "Everything will be all right now. You'll see." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Kurt's mouth.

Kurt was tense in Sam's arms, frozen in place for a moment before he gave a sigh and kissed Sam back, sliding a hand up to his shoulder and trying to make himself melt like he used to. If he was going to be with Sam for a while, he had better relearn how to enjoy his boyfriend's affection.

A fist slammed into the lockers just behind Sam's head, and both boys jumped apart, turning quickly to face their attacker. Puck was standing behind Sam, glowering at the blond. "You're an idiot, Hummel, if you think this guy deserves you."

"Watch your mouth, Puckerman," Sam sneered back, sliding his arm around Kurt's waist and tugging him close. "I don't appreciate you insulting my boyfriend. Or me."

"If I ever catch you alone," Puck growled, leaning in close to Sam, "I will rearrange your face."

"Noted." Sam turned his head and very deliberately kissed Kurt on the temple. "Now fuck off before I'm forced to rearrange _yours._"

"Puck..." Kurt looked helplessly at the mohawked boy. "Please, just drop it. You've done your piece. I don't need anything more from you." The look on Puck's face when he turned to Kurt was far too close to betrayal for Kurt's liking. He ducked his head and closed his eyes, unable to face the disappointment there. _You don't understand, _he thought to Puck. _It's better this way. Not for me, maybe, but for my family. I have to protect my family._

"Fine," Puck finally said, backing up and holding up his hands. "Whatever. Fuck up your life, Hummel. See if I try to be a nice guy again." He turned and stormed off down the hall, leaving Kurt alone in Sam's hold.


	19. Concern

I apologize for the short chapter, but I promise, next chapter will add the second pairing to this story officially!

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Concern_

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"Hey." Burt knocked on Kurt's door before pushing it open, coming down the stairs with a plastic bag swinging from his hand. "How you doin' today, Kurt?"

"Better," Kurt answered, looking up from his homework to offer his dad a thin smile. "How was your day?"

"Mrs. Johannesburg was back," Burt said. "She was asking about you."

Kurt sighed, glancing down at his bandaged wrist. "It'll probably be a while before I'm helping you again. Not until after Sectionals, at least, but since I'm off Cheerios, that means I'll have more time for the garage."

"Just don't stretch yourself too thin. You're meant to be a kid." Burt nodded toward the corner of Kurt's desk, where his rose bouquet was starting to look rather sad. "Those from Sam?"

"Yes."

"Need a vase for them or something?"

"No thank you," Kurt answered smoothly. "They clash horribly with the décor. The gesture was sweet, the reality less-than-perfect." Really, he just didn't want Sam's flowers in his room any longer than they had to be.

"Well." Burt nodded along with what Kurt was saying, though his face showed he was thinking Kurt was just a little _too _anal about his décor. "I got you something, after work." He held out the bag.

"BJ's Hunting and Sporting Arena?" Kurt read off the logo, raising an eyebrow. "Dad..."

"I saw them a while ago and didn't know why anyone would want them," Burt explained. "But then you got hurt, and it all made sense. So... don't judge a gift by its bag. Just open it."

Kurt looked skeptical as he opened the bag and looked inside, and then he had to laugh. The bag was full of elastic bandages in various colors: reds and blues and yellows and greens.

"They're for matching to sports uniforms," Burt explained with a shrug. "So they're mostly bright colors. Couldn't find any of those mauves or puces or frilly colors you like. But I figured they'd be better than normal-colored. I know you hate wearing things that don't go with your clothes, so this way, you can use your wrap as an accessory." He was nodding now, looking hopefully at Kurt's face. "And I got you two of each color, so you can wrap up your left hand if you want to match..."

"I love them," Kurt said, picking out a sky blue that was actually fairly close to the scarf he was wearing. "Thank you."

"Here," Burt said, pulling up a chair and holding out his hand for the wrap. "Let me rewrap your wrist for you."

Kurt hesitated a moment before handing over the wrap, reaching up to unfasten the bandage, carefully unwinding it from his wrist. The purple bruises looked worse than they felt now. It was with great trepidation that Kurt offered his wrist to his father.

Burt took his arm carefully, a frown growing on his face as he looked at the bruises ringing Kurt's wrist. "Kurt..." He wrapped his fingers around them, careful not to squeeze, and looked up sharply when his fingers lined up with the marks. "This isn't from a desk."

"I..."

"Someone grabbed you."

"Dad..."

"Who was it? Who the fuck hurt you?"

Kurt glanced at the roses on his desk but said nothing, pressing his mouth into a thin line. Burt followed his gaze before turning back to Kurt. "Sam?"

Kurt gave a little nod, cringing at the muttered expletives his father issued. "This isn't okay, Kurt," Burt finally said, looking Kurt square in the eye. "No one should hurt you, _especially _not the person you're dating."

"It was an accident," Kurt whispered. "He didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to grab you hard enough to put your arm in bandages?"

"He didn't realize how hard he was squeezing..."

"Kurt!" Burt was shaking his head, alarm battling with anger on his face. "Do you realize what you're saying? You're making excuses for him! That's..."

It was a hallmark of an abusive relationship, Kurt knew, and not something he ever thought he'd be dealing with. Rather than make things worse, Kurt just pressed his mouth shut and averted his eyes, staring at a point on the far wall.

Burt sat in silence for a while before picking up the blue bandage and starting to wrap Kurt's wrist. When he finished, he spoke again, his voice quiet and level. "That boy is not welcome in this house, Kurt. I can't tell you who to date—though I hope, for your sake, you break up with him—but I do not approve of him, and you are not to _ever _bring him here again, do you understand?"

Kurt nodded mutely, still staring at the wall. Burt rubbed his face before getting to his feet and replacing the second chair, then headed for the door. He paused with one foot on the first step, looking back at his son. "Do you love him?"

Kurt's gaze shifted to Burt for a moment before dropping to the ground again. The lack of an answer was heart-wrenchingly telling. Burt squeezed his fingers around Kurt's banister, wishing it were Sam's throat. "If you're in trouble," he said, "you talk to me, Kurt. Let me help you. I'm your _dad_. That's my _job._"

Kurt gave a little nod. Burt waited, lingering on the stairs, but Kurt said nothing. With a heavy sigh, Burt turned back and left Kurt's room, wondering just where things had gone wrong.

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* * *

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After his dad had left, Kurt was expecting the next visit to be from Carole. Sure enough, she didn't disappoint, slipping into Kurt's room about an hour after Burt had vacated it. "Kurt? You busy?"

"Doing homework," Kurt answered, resting his head on his hand and tapping his pen against his paper. "I don't want to talk about it, Carole."

"Well, tough luck, cookie," she said. "Because you promised me you would, remember? If I didn't tell your dad, you wouldn't shut me out."

"You can go ahead and tell him," Kurt sighed. "He probably sent you down to talk to me, anyway, which means he's already put things together."

"Kurt..." Carole frowned at Kurt, shaking her head. "This isn't how healthy relationships work. You're not supposed to keep things from your parents, and you're _not _supposed to get hurt by your partner."

"For the last time, he didn't mean to hurt me!" Kurt protested. "I was overreacting, and he just tried to stop me from storming out. It's practically my fault-"

"Kurt!" Carole's shocked expression matched her voice as she interrupted the boy. "I don't ever want you to even _think _that again! It is _never _your fault that someone else hurt you. You do not _ever _deserve to be hurt!"

"I didn't say I deserved it," Kurt said. "Just that I was the instigator."

"You put your wrist in Sam's hand?"

"Well, no, but-"

"You told him to squeeze hard enough to bruise?"

"No, I-"

"You _asked _him to hurt you?"

"Not in so many words." Kurt closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. "Carole..."

Carole sighed, leaning over to catch Kurt in a hug. "Sweetie, if you were a girl, from the time you were little, you'd be hearing all about abusive relationship and how they're horrible, horrible things. By this point in your life, you'd know the warning signs and what to do if you find yourself in one, and... and I'm afraid that, because you're a boy, you weren't given the same lectures."

"It's not an abusive relationship," Kurt insisted.

"Your wrist is bandaged."

"My fault."

"You're blaming yourself for his actions."

Kurt opened and closed his mouth, unable to protest that.

"That's what an abuser does, sweetie," Carole murmured, stroking her hand over Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair. "He beats you down, in here." She tapped her fingers lightly against the side of his head. "He makes you think that you're useless without him, that you're only worth anything when he is around, and that anything bad he does is all your fault. And it's not, Kurt. It's not. _You're _not. You don't need him."

Kurt closed his eyes biting at his lip. "Carole... I'm giving him a second chance. That's it. It's not like I'm letting him beat me up or anything—mentally or physically. One second chance. No second second chances. I promise." He opened his eyes, drawing back from her hug to look up at her. "And you can tell Dad. Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"You know we're just worried about you, Kurt," Carole said, cupping Kurt's cheek.

"I know," Kurt said. "I'll be okay. You'll see."


	20. Sectionals

I have two illustrations to share with you! This first one actually belongs to the previous chapter, gifted to me by Fearful_Little_Thing after it was posted: http:/ /i2. photobucket. com/ albums/ y6/ FantismalSpider/ Illustrations/ HTWKurtsadbyFoxColor. jpg The second one... well, the second one kinda spoils the end of this chapter, so I'll link you at the end.

There are several songs sung here. The first one is _When You Wish Upon a Star_, from _Pinocchio_, and it is sung in the style of this video, http:/ /www. youtube. com/ watch?v= RhGm6vxnb2c, except the chorus doesn't start until after the first verse and the lead is sung in Kurt's beautiful voice. The second is _Get Out Alive_, by Three Days Grace, as heard here: http:/ /www. youtube. com/ watch?v= miFhwa1_fwE

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Sectionals_

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New Directions had drawn the first performance slot for Sectionals. Kurt had been the first soloist for New Directions. He had stood alone behind the front curtain, listening to the rest of New Directions giggling and scuffling into their places behind the next drape, to be ready for their reveal. He had closed his eyes and listened as the MC stepped up and welcomed the crowd to the Western Ohio High School Show Choir Sectionals. As the first show choir had been announced, New Directions from McKinley High, Kurt let out a long breath and stepped up to his mark. His wrist was no longer wrapped, and Tina had worked her magic with makeup to hide the last of the greenish yellow bruises from the audience. He looked perfect. Ethereal, Mercedes had remarked, which had been precisely the look New Directions was going for for this number. Kurt had even been able to use his tiara collection for the girls' costumes (though the boys had flat-out refused). Disney, Mr. Schu had explained (though they had all already known) was about magic and fairy tales and dreams coming true.

"_NEW DIRECTIONS!"_ The curtain had swept open, the spotlight shining bright on Kurt's uplifted face. The auditorium had applauded politely, but Kurt hadn't moved, keeping an enigmatic little smile curving his lips, his eyes closed as the orchestra began to play. As he opened his mouth, he opened his eyes, stepping forward on the stage.

_When you wish upon a star_

_Makes no difference who you are_

_Anything your heart desires_

_Will come to you_

"When you wish," the rest of the choir had sung, the swish of the curtain opening behind him practically inaudible over the music. "When you wish. When you wish. Wish upon a star..."

_If your heart is in your dream_

_No request is too extreme_

_When you wish upon a star_

_As dreamers do_

The applause had been deafening as New Directions took their bow, bright smiles splitting their faces. Kurt couldn't make out any recognizable faces in the audience over the lights, but he could imagine he heard his dad's voice shouting "THAT'S MY BOY!" just like he had when Kurt won his first football game. Disney was, apparently, a huge success in Western Ohio.

"We've got this in the _bag_!" Rachel squealed as she spun and danced down the hall to their ready room, unable to simply run like everyone else (walk? Who could walk at a time like this!) "If we're this strong at Sectionals, no way will we lose to Vocal Adrenaline this year!"

"You guys were _awesome_!" Mr. Schu was waiting for the club, offering high-fives to everyone (and hugs to those who reached for him first). "You looked like something from a fairy tale!"

"Disney!" Tina said, giving a twirl in her princess-esque dress. "Everyone loved us!"

"Everyone knows Disney," Quinn pointed out. "It brings back happy childhood memories. We've practically bribed the judges just by our song choices."

"All right guys, if this is what our Sectionals looked like, we're going to have to out-do ourselves for Regionals! We should start thinking of song choices now, and then-"

"And now," Mr. Schu said, interrupting Rachel with a fond, long-suffering smile, "we should go out and watch our competition."

"Why?" Puck asked with a shrug and a smirk. "We already know they suck."

"It's _polite_," Mr. Schu said. "Good sportsmanship. Come on, guys, let's show the other teams that we can enjoy their work—even if it doesn't measure up to ours!"

"I'll catch up with you in a minute," Kurt said, forcing a smile on his face that felt utterly fake. "Save me a seat!"

When the door finally stopped swinging and settled closed, Kurt turned to a dressing table and braced his hands against it, sucking in a deep breath.

The past two weeks had been _hell_. At home, Finn had a tendency to disappear whenever Kurt showed up, or hover awkwardly in the background, or start rambling on about random things, his eyes always drifting to Kurt's wrist. Carole had mothered Kurt endlessly, until _he _started disappearing when _she _showed up, unable to stand the sadness in her eyes. And his dad had been distant, which really wasn't all that unusual for Burt... only he hadn't been quite so removed from Kurt's life since Carole and Finn moved in. Kurt knew his dad had been upset about his insistence to stay with Sam, but there was simply no way to explain his reasoning without upsetting him further.

School hadn't been much better. Mercedes had pitched a fit when Kurt confessed he hadn't broken up with Sam after all, swearing to not speak to him again until they had broken up. Her silent treatment had lasted all of one class, though, before she was back at his side with an apology and a frown, trying to convince him he was making a mistake. She had finally decided that she would stick by Kurt, but if Sam hurt him again, she'd get to say 'I told you so!' until she grew tired of it (which, knowing Mercedes, would take years). Santana, Britney, and Rachel were still huge fans of Kurt and Sam being together, though Rachel had a tendency to stuff gay sex pamphlets into his locker. Kurt really wished she'd stop, since seeing those always gave Sam ideas for things they could be doing instead of attending classes (and sometimes, he'd follow through on those ideas. Kurt mourned the knees of his favorite D&G trousers after blowing Sam in the bathroom instead of attending math class).

Puck refused to acknowledge Kurt's existence at all (which occasionally led to more awkward moments from Finn if the two of them came across Kurt in the hall or after school). That wasn't all too different from Puck's usual behavior during school hours, but after class, in Glee Club...

Well, Puck had been _mostly _ignoring him, but his most recent solo in front of the club (theme: emotion) had been a cover of _Get Out Alive _by Three Days Grace. Even though he had stared right through Kurt, the lyrics had resonated.

_No time for goodbye he said as he faded away_

_Don't put your life in someone's hands_

_They're bound to steal it away_

_Don't hide your mistakes_

_'Cause they'll find you, burn you_

That had been one of the few times when the Glee Club sat silent after a song had finished, staring at each other with wide, scared eyes before the scattered applause began. Mr. Schu had thoroughly congratulated Puck on his performance, pointing out that sometimes silence was a better reaction than applause. Rachel had looked completely scandalized at that thought.

Kurt shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. Dear god, that was a tear. He was going to completely ruin his makeup, and he still needed to be on stage for the award ceremony at the end, not to mention sit beside all his friends and have them _notice_...

"Dude, you okay?"

Kurt jumped, every muscle tensing. It was only Puck's voice, but it was still unexpected. "I thought you weren't talking to me." He opened his eyes, glancing up just enough to make out Puck in the mirror behind him, near the door.

Puck shrugged, slowly stepping closer to Kurt. "Got bored with that. Are you _crying_, Princess? Why? You rocked that solo."

"I am not _crying_," Kurt snapped, pushing off the table and straightening his back. He tipped his head up, blinking furiously to stop the tears, even as he reached up to brush the couple stray ones off his face. "It's just... the adrenaline. And stress. Combined. Bad combination."

Puck was standing behind Kurt now. Not only could Kurt see him in the mirror, but he could feel the other boy's presence, a solid force at his back. "Look, Hummel..."

"I just need a moment," Kurt whispered, swallowing thickly and staring resolutely at the ceiling. He couldn't see Puck at all from this angle... which meant he was completely taken aback when Puck stepped up, pressing against his back and wrapping his arms gingerly around Kurt's middle. "Puck! What are you...?"

"It's called a 'hug,' Princess," Puck answered. "It's what cheers my little sister up when she's had a bad day."

"I haven't been having a bad day," Kurt grit out. "I've actually been having a rather _good _day."

"Is that because you've been with us all day?" Puck asked. "And that sorry excuse for a boyfriend hasn't been able to get near you?"

"Don't-"

"Don't what? Don't insult him? It's pretty obvious that you don't like him all that much anymore, Hummel. I, at least, don't lie about it."

"Puck..." Puck wasn't releasing Kurt from the hug, and Kurt just didn't have the energy to struggle free. He drooped in Puck's arms, his head falling forward, hands loosely resting on Puck's. "You don't understand..."

"Do you like being with him?" Puck asked, very deliberately. Kurt pressed his lips together and gave a little shake of his head. "Then why the fuck don't you just drop him like a used tampon?"

A fresh tear rolled down Kurt's cheek, much to his shame. "He protects me," he whispered, confessing his reasoning for the first time.

"Dude... what?" Puck's arms tightened around Kurt's waist. "_We _can protect you. You don't need that turd hanging on. And besides, why do you need to be protected? You were just fine last year. Hell, you even _told _Karofsky and Azimio to beat you up. You've got balls, Hummel. You don't need a bodyguard."

"It's not for me," Kurt said. "It's for my dad. And Carole and Finn. They don't... I can see how much it just _kills _my dad when I come home with obvious traces of bullying—slushie facials or garbage-scented clothes or whatever. He hates it. But when it was just us, I could keep most of it from him. Now that Finn and Carole are there too... it's harder. And none of them deserve to be punished for my sexuality." The words, like the tears, didn't seem to want to stop. "I can't... anything I can do to make their lives easier, I have to. Because they deserve it. Because I owe it to them, for all the crap they _do _put up with on my account." He reached up, wiping at his face with his fingers. "When... the night after I tried to dump Sam, we got a call. Anonymous. Some thug letting my dad know, at midnight, that I was going to burn in hell for being a faggot. I can't stop that, but at least, with Sam... most of the harassment stops. I can handle it all, but it just kills my dad, and Finn and Carole have never had to deal with that before..."

"That's bullshit," Puck said. "Finn and his mom are tougher than that. They can tough it out. And we can totally protect you at school."

"No, Puck, you really can't," Kurt said, shaking his head. "You and Finn, and Matt and Mike too... you're all the laughingstocks of the jocks."

"Hey-"

"You are," Kurt insisted, shaking his head more firmly. "Yes, you're still a bad-ass, but... but Sam's managed to be out and gay and still be more respected than you four. Among the ones who attack me, at least. The dweeb population may still cower in your presence, but would Karofsky? Azimio? Donahue? Sam's got them following his lead. As long as Sam's happy with me, they stay off my back."

"But you don't _like _Sam!" Puck protested.

"So?" Kurt asked tiredly. "I'm taking one for the team. For my family."

"You're letting him fuck you."

"I-"

"Don't say you aren't. He told me you put out, even before you failed to break up with him."

"My sex life is still none of your business," Kurt whispered.

"It's also making you burst into tears after giving the best performance of your life so far." Kurt had no rebuttal, merely sniffed and wiped at his eyes again. He felt Puck set his chin down on his shoulder and sigh against his ear. "Kurt..."

Puck didn't use Kurt's first name all that often. In fact, Kurt was pretty sure Puck hadn't used it at _all _this year. He opened his eyes, looking at Puck's reflection in the mirror.

"I _can _protect you," Puck murmured, his mirror-gaze meeting Kurt's. "If you just give me a chance."

Kurt twisted his head to look at Puck directly, and Puck just gave him a small smile and a quirk of one brow before closing the couple of inches between them, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's mouth.

"Puck..." Kurt whispered, tightening his hold on Puck's hands around his waist, his murmur brushing their lips together again. "Puck, I..."

"Shh." Puck slid one hand up Kurt's chest, holding him closer against Puck's body as he leaned in for another kiss, and then another, soft, undemanding caresses that had Kurt melting in his arms. It was like Sam's first kisses all over again, before all of the pressure and fear set in.

"What are you doing?" Kurt had to ask, barely giving any volume to the words. His knees were threatening to give out, but Kurt did _not _want to collapse against Puck.

"These are called kisses," Puck teased, his grin just millimeters away from Kurt's lips. "And if you didn't know that, then Sam's been doing something wrong..."

"No... No." Kurt reached up, sliding his hand between their mouths, pushing Puck away a little. "Puck... I can't do this. I have a boyfriend. You're straight. I... we can't."

"I'll try anything once," Puck said, pursing his lips to kiss Kurt's fingers. "And you can dump White."

"No, Puck," Kurt whispered. "I can't. And you... no. We can't. I'm sorry." He swallowed nervously, turning his face away from Puck's deep eyes. "You should go now. Please."

"Kurt..."

"I need a moment alone. I'll join the rest of you in the audience."

Puck took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against Kurt's back, before he tightened his arms in one final hug and stepped back, releasing Kurt. "He doesn't make you happy."

"My happiness is surprisingly low on my list of concerns right now," Kurt whispered, wrapping his arms around himself in the absence of Puck's embrace. He didn't look up again until the door had opened and closed one final time, and even then, it was just to make sure Puck was truly gone before Kurt sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

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The second picture: http:/ /i2. photobucket. com/ albums/ y6/ FantismalSpider/ Illustrations/ HTWPuckKurtFirst KissbyFoxColor. jpg


	21. Celebrations

Pucklings is a great term and it needs to be used more frequently.

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Celebrations_

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Their victory at Sectionals netted New Directions their second trophy (technically their third, but they all (except Mr. Schu) agreed that the piddly little consolation trophy they won at Regionals last year for coming in _last_ didn't count), and they were immediately swept up by their fans as they tumbled out of the auditorium, laughing and cheering.

Of course, their fans consisted almost entirely of their family, with a couple friends from McKinley there as well. Miss Pillsbury clapped her hands and refused to touch any of them, but in an affectionate manner, and Brad presented them each with a different flower (Kurt got a purple gladiolus) for their victory. Burt and Carole were there, beaming proudly at their boys. Burt clapped Kurt on the shoulder as Kurt sniffed his flower and nodded approvingly at him. "When that first curtain lifted, and it was just you there..." He smiled. "I nudged this old geezer sitting next to me and told him 'That's my boy!'"

"Oh, Kurt, your song was _beautiful_!" Carole said, breaking away from Finn's side to give Kurt a hug too. "You all were so, so heartbreakingly lovely!"

"Noticed the tiaras, too," Burt said, with a nod toward the girls. "They look awful familiar."

"One never does know when one will need a tiara," Kurt answered with a little smile, cocking his head to the side. "Without my collection, the Glee Club would have been out hundreds of dollars in rhinestones alone. So... since my tiaras saved them money, can I have my Navigator back?"

"I'll think about it," Burt said gruffly, adjusting his hat.

"What, _really_?" Kurt gaped at his father. "You mean, you might actually give her back?"

"It's not fair to ask you to ask for rides from everyone," Burt said. "You're seventeen, for Pete's sake. I'll think about it."

By 'everyone,' Kurt knew Burt meant 'Sam.' Finn was constantly offering Kurt rides, but Sam insisted that he chauffeur Kurt, at least after school, seeing as how he was Kurt's boyfriend. And if they stopped by Sam's house for a couple hours before Kurt made it home, well... Kurt was Sam's boyfriend. That sort of thing was to be expected.

Kurt, however, just gave a squeal and flung himself at his father, hugging him tightly. "Thank you!"

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked, a pink larkspur tucked behind her tiara.

"Dad's going to give me back my baby!"

"Your car baby?"

"Yes!"

"I said I'd _think _about it!" Burt protested, patting Kurt on the shoulder. "No promises! Don't get your hopes up..."

"Who's getting hopes up?" Sam had finally pushed his way through the crowd to reach Kurt's side. "Baby, you were _fantastic_ up there!"

Kurt resisted the urge to look toward Puck as he pulled away from his dad, reluctantly moving into Sam's offered embrace. He could feel his dad's icy glare as Sam slid his arms possessively around Kurt's waist, pressing their mouths together.

"Hey!" Puck stepped in close to the pair, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder and giving him a shove away from Kurt. "Not here, peabrain. We're trying to celebrate."

"We _are _celebrating." Sam narrowed his eyes at Puck. "It's not my fault if you're too homophobic to let Kurt have his reward..."

"Guys!" Kurt took a step back from Sam, holding up his hands as he looked between the open fury on Puck's face and the cool simmer of anger on Sam's. "Not here. We just won Sectionals. No fighting."

Sam gave a huff, adjusted his jacket, and reached out a hand for Kurt again, but Kurt took another step back, shaking his head. "No. If you're just going to make a scene, I'm not going to help. Come on, Mercedes. Let's see if the concessions are still open. I'm dying for something to drink." He grabbed his girl's hand and hurried off through the crowd, not looking back.

"What was that all about?" Mercedes hissed as they neared the concessions stand. "Puck's been completely _ignoring _you since November, and now he's pushing Sam around?"

"Puck kissed me," Kurt whispered back, looking nervously over where Sam was still loitering with the rest of the McKinley High well-wishers.

"_What!_"

"Keep it down!" Kurt wrung his hands together, looking back at Mercedes. "After our number, everyone went to the auditorium to watch the others, but he stayed behind. I... was crying."

"I could tell," Mercedes said. "Don't worry," she was quick to say at Kurt's alarmed look. "You fixed your face up good enough for everyone else. I just know you too well."

"He gave me a hug, and talked, and then he kissed me. He wants me to dump Sam."

"_Puck_?" Mercedes glanced Puck's way, then back to Kurt. "Sex-shark Puck? Puckazilla with the ladies? _And _the cougars? Our doofus, Gleeky, dumpster-tossing _Puck_ made out with you?"

"It wasn't exactly making out," Kurt said. "And I just stood there, really. I mean, Puck _kissed _me. What was I supposed to do, swoon?"

Mercedes grinned, leaning her head close. "So? Are you going to dump Sam for Puck?"

"I can't, Mercedes..."

"Sam's no good for you!"

"And you'd say Puck _is_?" Kurt shook his head. "You said it yourself. He's straight. He likes girls. He threw me in the dumpster for a year and a half. Why would I ever want to date him?"

"Because that boy can sing, and dance, and he's been trying to look out for you in his own misguided way ever since..." Mercedes shrugged. "Since before Thanksgiving, I think. He's the one who told you Sam was crap, after all."

"'_Cedes_," Kurt said desperately. "Please try to be reasonable here. It's _Puck_. He probably just thought this was all some big joke..."

Mercedes sighed, shaking her head sadly. "Kurt, baby, just promise me one thing."

"Name it."

"If Puck kisses you again... kiss him back. That boy's got some serious skills!" Mercedes grinned and winked at Kurt. "Trust me, baby. I'm speaking from experience here."

"Mercedes!" Kurt glanced back at the Glee Club. Sam was frowning in their direction, but he wasn't close enough to overhear. "Look... just don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Not even Quinn?"

"Mercedes!"

"Just Quinn," Mercedes said, holding up her hands. "She knows Puck best. Just Quinn, and I'll make Quinn swear not to tell anyone! I promise!"

Kurt glanced at Sam again and sighed. "Fine. Just Quinn. No one else."

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* * *

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It was _weird_, really, to be the one people were ignoring. Not people, really. Just Kurt. After Sectionals, Puck had noticed that Kurt was going out of his way to get out of Puck's way, to not look at him, and to not be in the same room alone as him. Puck didn't understand why—it couldn't possibly have been the kiss. Puck was a _good _kisser, and he had felt the little princess go limp in his arms. Apparently, that melty-face that Kurt used to do after sucking face with White in the halls was a Kurt-thing and not exclusive to White. Puck rather liked it. He was such a sexy bad-ass that he could make the guys swoon just as easily as the ladies.

But Kurt had been steadfastly refusing to give Puck another opportunity to make his knees buckle, and Puck wasn't entirely sure why. He did know one thing, though—Hummel had _not _kept their kiss a secret. Not that Puck had asked him to or anything, but from the way that black chick... Mercedes (See, he _could _remember the girls he dated!) looked at him whenever she sat next to Kurt in Glee, or at lunch, or at class, he knew she knew. Black chick had a hard time keeping secrets, though. She figured out that Beth was his, and not long after that, the whole club knew. Except Rachel. But Rachel still managed to blab a secret that she _didn't even know_. That chick _totally _had ESP.

If Puck had to be honest, though (and come on, when wasn't he?), he wasn't all that surprised that it was Quinn who grabbed his arm after Glee and dragged him out to his car. "Come on," she said, in that bossy way she had. "You're taking me out for burgers, and the two of us, we're going to have a chat."

Next thing Puck knew, he was sitting across from Quinn in a plastic booth, thankful that she had at least stopped super-sizing things now that she wasn't feeding a baby too. Because while it was pretty cool that Quinn would actually _eat_ when she was pregnant, unlike most of the Cheerios, it was cooler that she was hot. "I... uh... didn't think we were still dating," Puck said, watching her eat her fries one at a time. How could anyone stand to eat that slow? Half of Puck's meal was already gone.

"We never really were," Quinn said, taking a sip of her milkshake. "You refused to give up all your other girls."

"So?" Puck asked, slouching back in the booth, his legs splayed under the little table. "That doesn't mean we weren't dating. You were carrying around a Puckling in your belly. That kinda made you mine automatically."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Puckling?'

Puck nodded. "Yeah, see, it's like a duckling, only for the Puckasaurus. Pretty cool, huh? Came up with it myself this summer."

"How... charming." Quinn was making that face that meant she didn't really like what she was hearing, but she was too much of a good girl to tell Puck to shut up, but she would just tell him with that disgusted face so that _he _knew without her needing to be rude.

Puck was pretty impressed she could communicate so much with a twist of her lips and a lift of her eyebrows, but hey, that was girls for you.

"Puck, do you even have any idea why I brought you here?"

"You wanted a free meal, and maybe another ride on the-"

"Don't even go there," Quinn interrupted, holding up her hand. "One ride was more than enough for me for the rest of my life, thank you all the same."

"Hey." Puck gave a shrug, spreading his hands. "If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes and picking up another fry. "I wanted to talk to you about Kurt."

"Hummel? What about him?"

"Do you like him?"

Uh-oh. Her eyes were all scary intense. She was serious. Puck gave a shrug. "He's... not too bad. You know. For a homo."

"Puuuck..."

"What?" Puck gave a loud sigh, rolling his head around once. "Fine. He's cool. Prissy and bitchy, with crap taste in boyfriends, and he _sucks _at video games, but he's pretty cool. I like listening to him sing."

"And you gave him a kiss."

"That was just a spur of the moment deal," Puck said, jabbing some fries at Quinn before shoving them in his mouth. "It didn't mean anything. Kid was crying."

"So you thought kissing him would cheer him up?"

Puck shrugged, staring out the window beside their table. "Dunno."

"Puck."

"I don't know, okay! I just... wanted him to stop crying. And that fucking White jerk-off was _why _he was crying. So... so yeah, maybe I offered to take White's place. He's never cried over _me_ before, not even when I chucked him in the trash."

"Oh Puck..." Quinn shook her head. "Somewhere behind your bad-assery, you really are a nice guy."

"Hey!" Puck protested, lobbing his straw wrapper at Quinn. "I am _not _a nice guy. I am a total bad-ass. 100% completely bad-ass ass here."

Quinn giggled, and Puck sighed, smiling a little at her. "I hope Beth has your smile."

"Puck..." Quinn shook her head a little, looking down at her food. "I told you, no more Beth talk. She's not ours. I don't even know who adopted her. She's not part of our lives, she never will be, and... and I'd really like to move on past that part of my life."

"Yeah... but I still hope she has your smile."

"I'm _trying _to talk to you about Kurt." Quinn was determined to change the topic. "Look, Puck, how can you do this to him?"

"Do what to him?" Puck demanded. "I'm not the one fucking him over!"

"You're not gay, Puck." Quinn folded her arms on the table, looking matter-of-factly at him. "You're a very big T&A guy, and while Kurt has an admittedly envy-inducing ass, the only way he will ever have tits is if he eats himself into man-boobs. Seeing as how the boy ate like a sparrow even _before _he joined the Cheerios, I don't think that's going to happen."

"I dated Rachel," Puck pointed out. "She's got a major lack of tits..."

"But she does have _some _chest," Quinn replied. "And I'm sure you'd find that Kurt has a dick, too. And what if he wants to be the man? Would you take it up the ass?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Puck said, sitting up so he could lean toward Quinn, looking around nervously for eavesdroppers. "I just kissed the dude!" he hissed. "I'm not going to go _fuck _him..."

"Then what _are _you offering?" Quinn was shaking her head slowly at Puck. "Puck... do you want to replace Sam as Kurt's boyfriend or not?"

"I want White out of the picture," Puck said.

"And?" Quinn asked. "Kurt just goes without a boyfriend for the next two years?"

Puck growled under his breath, looking aside as he tried to figure out the confusing thoughts in his head. "Look. I _like _Glee, okay? I like getting to show off my rad guitar skills, and I like the dancing—especially when Brit and Santana get into it—and I like the singing, and I like that it's just _fun_, you know? It's something I'm good at, and no one gets mad about it. There's no 'you aren't good enough,' except from Rachel, but I've gotten good at ignoring her. I _like _that. And... and Kurt's right. I _don't _scare the rest of the team the way I used to. Oh, sure, I'm still good for a dumpster toss, and they'll all think twice before they try to slushie me, but they still _think _about slushying me now. And there's all kinds of cracks about 'Homo Explosion' and how gay me and Finn and Mike and Matt are. And it's not..." He picked up his burger, taking an aggressive bite of what was left of it to give himself more time to think. "I like Glee. It's something good in my life. And I don't... I don't want it to be something bad. I don't want to step into that room and see that someone in there is having a shitty day. And I really don't want that person to have a shitty day every day. I just want... you know. I want them all to be happy too... oh shut up."

Quinn was smiling again, that achingly beautiful smile that Puck fervently hoped their daughter had inherited. "Puck, you want to be a nice guy."

"I told you to shut up," Puck muttered, shoving the last of his fries in his mouth.

"Is Kurt the only person who makes you feel like that?"

"No," Puck answered. "I'd do the same for you. Or Santana. Or Britney. Or, I guess, Rachel or Mercedes or Tina. Finn."

"So, for all the girls, ranked in order of hotness, your best friend, and Kurt?"

"Yeah... so?" Quinn just smiled around her milkshake straw and said nothing. Puck frowned at her, shifting awkwardly. "_So_!"

"So, all people you'd sleep with and your best friend?"

"Yeah, _so?_"

Quinn giggled again, setting her milkshake down. "Finn's your best friend, right?"

"Are you going somewhere with this?" Puck demanded, crossing his arms and slouching again.

"That must mean, by your own agreement, that Kurt's in the category of 'people you'd sleep with.'"

"Yea-wait, what? No! No, you made me say that! Bitch. I hate you."

"Sure you do," Quinn said, flicking her hair behind her shoulder with a too-smug smile.

"I hope Beth doesn't get _that _smile," Puck grumbled, slouching further. "I do _not _want to sleep with Kurt Hummel. I just don't want him sleeping with that dick cheese White."

"Puck," Quinn reached over and patted Puck's hand. "Your homework assignment for tonight is simple. Think about Kurt. Really think about him. Figure out what you're _really _after where he's concerned. And then we can talk again."

"Why do I want to talk to you?" Puck asked, rolling his eyes. "You make me pay for your food and try to get me to say I want to fuck the princess. You're not even gonna make out with me for this."

"A little deprivation will do you a world of good, Noah Puckerman," Quinn said, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "You won't die if I don't kiss you."


	22. Holiday Parties

We're nearing the end here! 26 chapters + one bonus features chapter... and this is number 22! I want to say THANK YOU to all my reviewers, even you anonymous horndogs from the first Sam/Kurt chapters! 250 reviews for this... wow. You guys must really, really like this story to stick it out so long!

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Holiday Parties_

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"_Sex for Dummies_?" Finn's face was slowly turning pink as he read the title of the book he had just unwrapped. "And... a really small leather bracelet?"

Kurt, lounging against Mercedes' side (and trying surreptitiously to steal her new fedora), snorted into his red plastic cup of an unknown liquid that Santana had assured them had no alcohol in it. When she made it. And then Puck came over first, so... "Who was your secret santa?"

"Why?" Santana purred, leaning against Brittany's back, the blonde nestled between her legs. "You jealous?"

"That's a cock ring," Brittany informed Finn, resting her ear against her leg. "You put your cock in it so you don't come so fast. Santana bought it for you at the sex shop."

Quinn hastily covered a cough that sounded more like a laugh, unable to meet Finn's eyes as the footballer went beet-red.

The Glee Club was still riding high from their Sectionals win and had decided to meet up for a Christmas party to kick off their winter holidays. Puck had protested the lack of religious inclusion, so it was now a Winter Holiday party with secret santas. He had allowed that.

Surprisingly, it was Santana who had offered to host the party. Kurt and Finn had debated it, but the best party space in the Hudson-Hummel residence was Kurt's bedroom, and Artie wouldn't have been able to make it down the stairs. Santana, though, had a huge house, and the first floor was entirely handicap-accessible. Her parents were out at some holiday party of their own, apparently unconcerned about what a dozen high schoolers could do without chaperones.

"Finn doesn't need a... a ring," Rachel said, blinking rather too rapidly.

Kurt snorted again. "You've got two gay dads, and you can't say 'cock?'"

"I can too!"

"Say it, then!"

Rachel blushed but gave a toss of her head, looking down her nose at Kurt. "Cock. Cock ring."

Mercedes cracked up, and Kurt took advantage of this opportunity to steal her hat and put it on his head. The fedora had been her secret santa gift from Artie, and Kurt was already envious.

"Uh... thanks, Santana. I think." Finn shoved the book and cock ring behind him, rubbing his hands nervously on his knees. "So, er, who's next?"

"This one's for the princess," Puck said, tossing a shimmery package Kurt's way.

Kurt just barely managed to catch the package without spilling his drink, grinning as soon as he saw the paper. "Mercedes!"

"Ah, can't fool you for a minute!" Mercedes laughed, stealing her hat back. "Go on, open it!"

Inside the wrapping paper was a mass of tissue paper, and buried in the tissue paper was a single ticket. "_Wicked_! Oh my god, you got me tickets to _Wicked_!"

"The tour's coming to Columbus!" Mercedes said, pointing to the date on the ticket.

"I _know_! They were sold out when I tried to buy them! But... just one ticket?" Kurt asked, poking through the tissue paper. "How can I take you if you only gave me one?"

Mercedes smiled, squeezing his arm. "I already had plans for that weekend," she said. "And I didn't want you to replace me with someone, so... it's a night to yourself!"

Kurt smiled, leaning over to kiss Mercedes' cheek. "Thank you, 'Cedes!" Only one ticket meant he couldn't possibly take Sam, and since the ticket was a gift, it wasn't like Sam could get upset about Kurt going on his own. A Sam-less weekend was a wonderful gift.

"You have to open mine now!" Brittany wailed, stretching her arms toward Puck. "I instantly thought of you when I saw it!"

"Uh..." Puck pulled out one of the last gifts remaining under Santana's Christmas tree, wrapped in cheery red paper with a big white bow stuck on it. "Okay. Brittany got me... you went shopping at the same place Santana did!"

Brittany's giggle was simply evil as Puck gaped at the box he had revealed. It was a sex toy. More accurately, it was Horny Devil's exclusive TITAN toy, ten inches of bright red dildo, perfect for vaginal or anal play. "_Brittany!_"

"It's big and red and a Titan, just like you!" Brittany said, clapping her hands in a familiar cheer. "WMHS!" _clap clap, clapclapclap, _"WMHS!" _clap clap, clapclapclap. _Santana, Quinn, Mercedes, and Kurt joined her, all four laughing at Puck's face. "WMHS! GOOOOO TITANS!"

"I am gonna have to kill someone," Puck grumbled, shoving the box far away from him. "Hummel, take it, it's all yours!"

"No way!" Kurt said. "Hell no! That's _your _gift, Puck, you have to keep it!"

"You'll hurt Brittany's feelings if you reject it," Tina pointed out, looking up from the back cover of her gift (a compilation of some of the top tap dance routines from the past hundred years). "That's not what Christmas, or Hanukah, is all about."

"I am _seriously _going to have to kill someone over this," Puck grumbled.

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Hours later, Kurt had slipped away for a bathroom break. The party had gone far beyond opening gifts and devolved into dirty dancing, horrible karaoke, and couples making out. Tina had climbed into Artie's chair, while Santana and Brittany were getting it on on the dance floor. Kurt had been pretty sure no one noticed him stumble into the wall on his way to the bathroom. Definitely more in that drink than he had been expecting.

Still, he was enjoying himself, and when he opened the bathroom door to find Puck leaning against the opposite wall, he didn't attempt to flee like he had been doing since the unexpected kisses at Sectionals. "'Lo, Puck."

"Hey there, Princess." Puck detached himself from the wall and took a step closer to Kurt. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure..." Puck had unbuttoned his shirt, Kurt had noticed, and his chest was glistening with sweat from all the dancing. He had a _very _nice chest. Kurt's fingers itched to touch it... and was that a _nipple _ring?

"Are you mad at me?"

"Huh?" Kurt pulled his eyes away from Puck's piercing to frown at the jock. "Why would I be mad?"

"You've been running from me ever since I kissed you." Puck reached up, skating his fingertips along Kurt's jaw. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," Kurt whispered.

"Really?"

Kurt nodded, and Puck took a step closer, invading Kurt's personal space. "Prove it."

"How?" Kurt had a door behind him; he couldn't exactly back up anywhere. Not that he wanted to back up. Not with Puck _right there_...

"Let me do this..."

Puck leaned in, his hands flat against the door to either side of Kurt's head. He touched the tips of their noses together, his hazel eyes just inches from Kurt's own. "_Oh..._" Kurt's heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn't lift his arms to push Puck away. He was frozen in place, fingers curling against the polished wood of Santana's bathroom door.

A nervous lick of his own lips brought Kurt's tongue in contact with Puck's lips, and he could _feel _Puck smile, the final inches between them closed as Puck fitted their mouths together, chasing Kurt's tongue back into his own mouth.

Kurt groaned, closing his eyes, his head falling back under the kiss, letting Puck in without any sort of a fight. Puck's kiss tasted of a heady mix of gin and strawberries, a combination Kurt was afraid he could get used to.

They didn't touch. Puck burned hotly in front of Kurt, the heat of his mouth hinting at the inferno within, but his mouth was all Kurt dared to take this time, pressing back, inhaling the air from Puck's lungs. Kurt was sure, _certain_, that if he were to touch Puck with more than his mouth, he would find himself consumed completely.

It felt like an eternity. It felt like a heartbeat later. Puck pushed away from the door, his eyes thin hazel rings around the dark pupils. Kurt swallowed, the taste of strawberries still heavy on his tongue, unable to look away.

"So." Kurt closed his eyes, feeling Puck's word through his tingling lips. "You're not mad."

"No," Kurt whispered. "Puck... don't..."

Don't _what_, even Kurt didn't know. Don't stay? Don't go? Don't stop? He gave a little shake of his head, trying to express his confusion.

Puck huffed a little laugh and leaned in again, a bare pressure against Kurt's lips before the thud of someone falling against the wall startled them both. Finn was at the end of the hall, muttering to himself as he rubbed his shoulder, clearly having coordination issues. He hadn't seemed to have noticed them yet, but Puck still frowned, his lips curving against Kurt's before he stepped back and stalked off into the house.


	23. Confrontations

I've googled expensive face creams so much that I'm now getting google ads about them. _

.

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Confrontations_

_

* * *

._

"Where is everyone?" Puck asked, making himself comfortable on Finn's bed. The two were alone in the massive Hudson-Hummel house, snow falling lightly outside the windows. It was two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, but it was winter break. Puck hadn't expected the house to be completely empty.

"Mom and Burt are at work," Finn said, putting _Halo: Reach _into his Xbox 360 and tossing Puck a controller. "Kurt ran to the mall for some face goop or something like that. He'll either be back really soon or in three hours. He got his car back—do you know his baby is a fully-loaded _Navigator_?—and he's been finding bajillions of excuses to take it out." He jumped onto the bed, settling against the wall beside his friend, letting Puck set up the multiplayer game. "How was Hanukah?"

"Meh," Puck gave a shrug. "Didn't get the katana I wanted. Got a new lighter, though." He glanced over at Finn. "You looking forward to Christmas?"

Finn shrugged, staring at the screen. "Dunno. It's gonna be weird, not being just me and Mom this year. I don't know what Burt and Kurt do for Christmas, but they didn't have any colored lights! Can you believe that? Mom had to go buy them some real Christmas tree lights, because all-white is just _boring_, and Kurt about had a seizure. At least their ornaments didn't look like something from a magazine, and we put ours up too... and it's kinda nice. Like we're a real family."

"Mr. Hummel's cool," Puck said. "I didn't expect Kurt's dad to be like that, from how princessy he is."

"Yeah..." Finn nodded his agreement as he heard the front door open, Kurt's voice calling out that he was home. "He's pretty awesome. I like having him around. He's going to see about getting tickets to an NBA game after Christmas. Only this time, we're inviting Kurt, so he doesn't go all psycho on us like last year, and Mom, so she's not left out."

Puck snickered as he threw a grenade. "You're such a _good _big brother," he teased.

"Uh-oh," Kurt had appeared in the doorway, arms crossed lightly over his chest. "What's he been telling you now?"

"Just about the basketball game," Finn said, looking up. "Did you find your face goo?"

"It's _Crème de la Mer_," Kurt stressed. "And yes, I found it. What are you two doing?"

"Halo," Puck answered. "We just started, so if you wanted to join in, it's no big deal. There's space on the bed..."

Kurt frowned a little, scrutinizing Puck before turning to look at Finn, who was very subtly shaking his head no. Kurt shook his head in response. "No thanks. You just want another excuse to laugh at my video game skills."

"Aww, Princess-"

"No," Kurt said firmly. "I'll be in my room, if you need me for anything. Anything _serious_," he clarified. "I'll leave my door open." He lifted a hand in a wave. "Have fun."

After Kurt was gone, Puck turned to face Finn. "I thought we were supposed to be making an effort to make friends with him."

"Yeah, _you _certainly were," Finn muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Finn sighed, looking back at the tv. "I saw you at Santana's party."

"What?"

"You were making out with him in the hall at Santana's party."

Puck could only stare at his friend, suddenly realizing why Finn had invited him over—and why he had chased Kurt away. "I..." He didn't even notice when his Master Chief got killed by aliens, too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Finn paused the game, frowning as he stared at the unmoving image on the screen. "Dude... if this is some way of fucking with his head, I'm gonna have to break your face. Maybe shave your head. Because he does _not _need your crap on top of everything else."

Puck scowled. "Why does everyone think I'm trying to fuck with him?"

"Because that's what you _do_," Finn said. "You beat up on the gay kid. And on anyone who might be gay. Like, oh, all of us in 'Homo Explosion' except yourself. And on dweebs. You threw that Jacob kid in the dumpster just before Sectionals."

"Like he didn't deserve it." Puck crossed his arms, staring at the side wall of Finn's room. "I'm not fucking with him, okay? I just... got drunk and shit, and with Brit and Santana all in each other's pants... no one else was going to put out there-"

Finn whirled on him so fast that Puck flung up an arm instinctively, falling sideways on the bed. The rage on his best friend's face was reminiscent of when he found about about babygate, about how Puck had knocked up his girl. "You stay away from him! Stay the fuck away!"

"Whoa!" Puck shoved at Finn, pushing him off. "I haven't _done _anything!"

"Kurt's my _brother _now," Finn said. "That means no one else's opinions matter. Not Azimio, not Karofsky, not Donahue—he's my _family_. And if he wants to kiss a guy, then fine, I will fucking fight to _let him_, and everyone else can just fuck themselves! But I will _not _let you talk about him like that! And I will _not,_" he gave Puck another shove back down, "let you fuck with him!"

"Chill out, man!" Puck shouted back. "I'm _not _fucking with him!"

"'He's the only one who'd put out.'" Finn threw Puck's words back at him. "And he fucking _wouldn't, _Puck! You don't _know _him! You haven't _seen _what he goes through! You were-"

"He started it!" Puck finally managed to put enough space between himself and Finn so he could sit up without being shoved down again. "He fucking... _fuck_." He ran his hands over the sides of his head, to either side of the mohawk. "He didn't start it. He... I... fuck. Dude... fuck."

There was a knock at the front door, but both Finn and Puck ignored it. Kurt could answer the door. Finn was staring at Puck, and Puck was staring at the bed. "I like him."

"What?"

"I _like _him, okay?" Puck punched a fist into Finn's cowboy comforter (and really, _cowboys_?) lifting his head to glare at Finn. "I could've gotten Santana or Brittany or both if I just wanted someone willing to put out. I didn't want them. I wanted him."

"You're _gay_?" Finn was staring at Puck with a look of horror on his face. "I let you sleep in my bed!"

"Dude, you fucking shared a _room _with Hummel, and he's been crushing on your ass!" Puck slouched back, crossing his arms. "I'm not fucking gay. I like chicks and tits and pussy. I just... it's just _him_. He's awesome. And girly but... but _not_. You know?"

"You _like_ him." Finn still looked uncomfortable.

"I never once thought about your ass," Puck dead-panned. "Swear it. Could never date a guy taller'n me."

Finn had to give a little smile at that, almost a laugh.

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* * *

.

Kurt wasn't sure what Puck and Finn were getting all excited about, though he could hear their raised voices in his room. He didn't try to make out any words, simply turned up his music a little louder and resumed his sketching of costume ideas for Regionals. If they wanted to shout, he could ignore them.

He frowned at the knock on the door, lifting his head, but there was no sound of footsteps from upstairs. Whatever Finn and Puck were doing was clearly too important (read: stupid) to interrupt for answering the door. With a roll of his eyes, Kurt set his pencil down and went upstairs. "May I help... you?"

Sam was standing on the porch, snowflakes melting in his hair, his cheeks rosy from the cold, a scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked gorgeous. Godlike. "I was just taking my daily walk," Sam said, offering Kurt a dimpled smile.

"Past my house?" Kurt asked, putting his body in the doorway so Sam couldn't just walk in.

"Well, yeah," Sam said with a shrug. "I miss you. Noticed you had company today, though."

_All of Apollo's lovers died_, Kurt thought to himself as he stared up at his boyfriend. "Sam... you're not allowed to be here. I told you. Just... just go home. I'll come over tomorrow." He went to close the door, but Sam stuck his foot in the way.

"You know, being banished from your house wasn't part of our agreement," Sam said, pushing the door open and stepping inside, despite Kurt's attempts at resistance. "I don't much care for it."

"It wasn't my idea," Kurt said, backing away from Sam once he lost the fight over the door. "My dad hates you. My whole _family _hates you..."

"Yeah, but your dad's not home right now." Sam continued to advance, ignoring the melting snow he tracked into the house. "Puckerman is, though. You've got him in your room, Kurt? In your bed, maybe?"

"W-what?" Kurt grabbed the banister behind him—he had backed right up to the edge of the stairs leading to his bedroom without realizing it. _Crap_. There wasn't a second exit out of his bedroom... but maybe if he got Sam downstairs, he could use the bigger room to maneuver around him and get to Finn and Puck before Sam could try anything. "Why would I..."

"You're not denying it," Sam put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, pressing firmly, making Kurt step backwards and onto the first stair. "Show me, Kurt. Show me you don't have Puckerman waiting to fuck you."

"Puck's in Finn's room," Kurt whispered, backing further down the stairs to get out of Sam's reach. "They're playing video games. He's not..."

"He wants you." Sam pursued Kurt leisurely down the stairs. "He strips you down with his eyes every time he looks at you. Can't you tell? Don't you see it? But of course you do. I'm _sure _you do. You're not happy with me, Kurt. I can tell. So you're screwing around with him on the side, aren't you? Have you let him take you yet? You promised you'd be mine, Kurt, and mine alone. I don't share."

"Don't..." Kurt's feet were on the solid floor of his bedroom now, and he had had enough. "Don't talk to me like that, Sam! I'm not your fuck toy!" _Did _Puck want him? Kurt knew Puck had kissed him, twice now, and he knew Puck had crept into his dreams at night, but was that because Puck _wanted _him? "And don't-"

Kurt was cut off by Sam's fingers around his throat, and he gasped, grabbing Sam's wrist with both hands. Sam wasn't squeezing, but Kurt knew the threat for what it was (he had once told Sam the thing he feared the most from his harassers was damage to his voice more than the rest of his body). "Don't tell me _don't_," Sam growled. "You're _mine_, Hummel. You can have your friends, you can have your family, but only _I _get to fuck you, understood?" He looked into Kurt's panicked eyes for a moment before pressing their lips together in a demanding kiss.

Puck and Finn were just upstairs. If Kurt could get to them, or get them to come here, three on one... he'd be okay. He'd be safe. He just had to...

Kurt released Sam's wrist, struggling to fight the panic down, and grabbed for his shoulders instead, driving his leg up as hard as he could. Sam howled as Kurt's knee connected with his groin, immediately releasing the smaller boy and stumbling back, cupping his crotch. Kurt sucked in a deep breath, massaging his aching neck, as he staggered toward the stairs.

"You _bitch_!" Sam snatched at Kurt's arm, yanking him back into the room and throwing him behind him. Kurt fell against his hanging chair, knocking the heavy frame to the ground.

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* * *

.

"So, you're _not_-" Finn shut his mouth at the sound of a crash from downstairs.

"What was that?" Puck asked, frowning.

"Kurt..." Finn got to his feet, heading for the door.

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* * *

_._

_Please have heard that..._ Kurt scrambled to his feet, jumping over the fallen chair and retreating from Sam. His door was still open. If he couldn't get past Sam... if Finn and Puck didn't hear the crash... he could scream. He could hit that high-F—hell, he could go _above _that F. He wasn't alone in the house. Sam wasn't going to kill him.

"What the hell!" Finn and Puck came pounding down the stairs, and Kurt sagged against the wall behind him in relief. "White! You're not supposed to be here!"

"Fuck off, Hudson," Sam sneered. "This is none of your business."

"Like hell it's not!"

Puck didn't even bother with words. Sam wasn't close enough to Kurt to grab him, so Puck leapt down the last few steps and charged the other jock, Finn right behind him.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut as Puck plowed into Sam, catching him low around the waist and bringing him to the ground, Finn quick to leap on top of him, but he opened them quickly, shoving away from the wall. Puck was sitting on Sam's chest, slamming his fists into Sam's face over and over, while Sam struggled to kick Finn off his legs. "Stop it!" he shouted, cursing how frail and _girly _his voice sounded. It was his lifelong curse, but just once, he'd like to be able to pull off the deep roar that all the other men in his life could. "Stop it, get off of him!"

"Kurt, what the hell, man?" Finn was wrestling Sam's legs down and able to look up at his brother. Puck refused to be distracted. "You can't say he wasn't hurting you this time!"

"I want him gone," Kurt said, stepping closer and slashing his hand through the air. "I want him gone, out of this house, not bleeding on my floor! Just get him out of here, please, Finn..."

Finn hesitated before nodding, grabbing at Puck's shoulders. "Off him, Puck. Come on. White, get your pathetic ass up."

Finn managed to drag Puck off of Sam and haul the other boy to his feet. Puck was still snarling like a guard dog as he watched Sam through dark eyes, flexing his fingers.

"Don't you _ever _come back here again," Kurt snapped, his voice shaking but gaze steady as he addressed Sam. "Don't even walk past my house again. Get out of here."

"Kurt..." Sam wiped his hand under his bloody nose, staring intently at the smaller boy.

"Get out!" Kurt refused to lower his eyes under Sam's anger, keeping his back straight and head held high as Finn shoved Sam toward the stairs.

Puck stayed behind, turning to size Kurt up once Sam was gone. Kurt took a step back and pressed his hands to his mouth, shaking from head to toe.

"Did he hurt you?" Puck stepped close, putting his hand carefully on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt shook his head, then nodded, then shrugged, biting a knuckle.

Puck hesitated, then wrapped his arms around Kurt, just holding him. "He's gone now."

Kurt gave a sob, twisting into Puck's chest and shuddering. Puck helplessly rubbed Kurt's back, pressing a hesitant kiss to the top of his head.

Finn clattered back down the stairs a few minutes later, pausing when he saw the two. "Uh... Sam's gone. I threatened to call the police if he didn't leave, and he just glared and stormed off. Kurt... are you okay? I mean, like... not hurt or anything?"

"He didn't have time to do anything," Kurt said, dropping a hand to rub at his throat, not trying to pull away from Puck. "Just pushed me into the chair. I... I'm fine. I'll be fine. We don't need to tell Dad about this."

"Why not?" Finn demanded. "Kurt, why the hell did you let him in?"

"I tried to keep him out," Kurt whispered. "He pushed in."

"Fucker," Puck growled, still rubbing Kurt's back.

"We need to tell him this," Finn said. "If Sam's attacking you, _here_, he needs to know."

"What good would it do?" Kurt asked bitterly. "He'll get upset, and worried, and short of hiring a _bodyguard_ for me, it's not like he can do anything."

"I'll be your bodyguard," Puck offered. "Free of charge, even."

"I don't need a bodyguard," Kurt muttered, pulling away from Puck. "I'm _fine_."

Finn sighed, shoving his hands into his hair and looking around. "I don't think you know the meaning of that word," he said. "_Fine_ doesn't mean furniture thrown around and blood on the floor and shit like that. And it _really _doesn't mean crying."

Kurt swiped angrily at the tears on his face as he looked around. "It's just one chair... _Puck!_"

"What?" Puck followed Kurt's gaze to his hands, only just noticing the blood on his fingers.

Kurt immediately tried twisting around to see the back of his shirt before hurrying to his closet, flinging the doors open and standing between the full-length mirrors on the other side. "This is a _Valentino_!"

"He's worrying about his clothes," Puck commented, looking over to Finn. "I think he really is fine."

"Yeah..." Finn said slowly, looking between Kurt and Puck. "Kurt... we need to tell your dad. And Mom."

"_No._" Kurt turned away from his image in the mirrors to look at Finn. "No, Finn." His trembling was much less noticeable now as he focused on his shirt, and how could Puck have been so _stupid _as to touch him with bloody hands, and he'd need to treat it immediately if he wanted any hope of salvaging it. "No. It won't do any good. No. I'll... No."

"Kurt, this is getting _dangerous_. Sam's not just fucking with your head anymore..."

"I know what I'm doing!" Kurt snapped.

"I'm just trying to _help _you!"

"Well, stop helping!"

Kurt and Finn stared at each other across the room, with Puck caught in the middle, trying to rub the blood from his fingers. Kurt caved first, taking a few steps to collapse on his bed, dropping his head into his hands. "No... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Thank you for helping. I... let the situation get out of hand. It won't happen again."

"Like hell it won't." Puck hesitated before sitting on the bed beside Kurt, first checking his pants to make sure they weren't bloody too. "He pushed you around this time. He knows he can do that now. He knows he can push into your _house_, into your _room_... he's not gonna go back to how he was. That's not what guys like that _do_."

"You did," Kurt whispered. "And Finn. You don't throw me in the dumpster anymore..."

"Yeah, but that's because we got to know you." Puck looked at his hands, then shrugged and reached out to rub Kurt's back again. There was already blood on Kurt's shirt. A little more wouldn't make a difference. Kurt stiffened at the touch before sagging again. "And we think you're cool. White... he's gotten to know you, and he's ramping up his shit. It's not gonna get better."

Kurt reached up, wiping fresh tears away from his eyes. "Please don't tell Dad, Finn. Or Carole. I will. I _will_. I just... I need some time. Please."

Finn shifted his weight from foot to foot before giving a heavy sigh. "Only if you let us be your bodyguards. You don't go _anywhere_ without someone else, and you _don't _go over to White's place. You dump him, Kurt. For real."

Kurt's swallow was audible as he squeezed his eyes shut and gave a nod. Puck tugged him close, and he slumped against the other boy's side.

"It'll be okay, Kurt," Puck said, softer than he knew he could. "It'll be okay."


	24. Families

I figure Burt and Kurt's mother had a star-crossed love. Her family was rich. His wasn't. She got everything her daddy could buy her. He worked with his hands. She loved him. He loved her. Her parents hated him. They ran off and got married. Eventually, Burt was forgiven, though he's still not liked (though Kurt is the darling of the family), but Burt knows what it's like to love in the face of parental opposition.

.

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Families_

* * *

.

While Kurt and Carole had looked at each other in mild exasperation when they were invited out to watch the Cleveland Cavaliers with the boys, they had both agreed that a night out could be fun (Kurt had hoped it would distract Finn from insisting he tell their parents what had happened with Sam). And basketball wasn't football. Burt and Finn had steadfastly ignored Kurt and Carole's increasingly raunchy debate over which sweaty, scantily-dressed jock was their favorite (Carole adored number 17, Varejão, and was sure he had a lovely accent, while Kurt rather favored number 44, Powe, and his arms. They both agreed number 4, Jamison, had the best bedroom eyes.). All in all, it was a nice evening, and Kurt even blocked out the drunken idiots behind him, the ones muttering about the stupid fag.

In retrospect, Kurt probably should have paid more attention to the drunken idiots. He had expected that they were commonplace at games like this one. He hadn't expected them to trail after the Hudmel clan as they headed out to their car (victory for the Cavs!), and he hadn't expected them to start shouting insults his way. _Just ignore them, _he had murmured to Burt, laying a restraining hand on his father's arm when Burt bristled. _Don't give them any power._

Except these idiots, instead of growing bored and wandering away, had picked up a loose chunk of asphalt and flung it at Kurt. Their aim was horribly off, the rock sailing by harmlessly to Kurt's left, but it was enough to set Burt off. The older Hummel had shaken Kurt's hand off and ran after the drunkards in a move that was frighteningly reminiscent of Puck's attack of Sam. Kurt had stared after Burt for all of three seconds before racing after him, Carole and Finn close behind.

Burt only managed to catch one of the men, but one was enough to pin up against an SUV, his arm twisted behind him. _When the hell do you think it's okay to throw rocks at my son!_

Kurt winced at the memory of his father's shouts, setting down the moisturizer and meeting his eyes in the mirror. It _had _been a fun evening together, up until that point. And Kurt hadn't even gotten hurt. It had taken both Finn and himself to pull his dad off the other man, and Carole had taken the keys to drive them home. Kurt had spent most of the trip leaning forward, his hand on his dad's shoulder.

Kurt hated moments like that one, when Burt was exposed to the truth about Kurt's life. He always overreacted, always fought so hard—too hard—to protect Kurt's rights to be treated just the same as anyone else. It hurt him. It hurt both of them.

Kurt sighed, pushing away from his vanity and tugging his dressing gown on before heading up the stairs. He would just check in on his dad once more before bed, just to make sure he really was okay. Burt wasn't in the living room, but his bedroom light was on, and through the door, Kurt could make out his voice. Carole must be in there too. He hesitated, closing his eyes and leaning close to listen, just in case he was interrupting something sensitive.

"...hate it! He didn't get hurt this time, but next time? Because you _know _there will be a next time. And what if I'm not there, huh? Will he even tell me? He doesn't tell me half the things that go on at that school of his. And I can't do a damn thing about it if he won't just _tell me_." Kurt could hear his father punch the wall, and Carole murmur something too quiet to make out.

"I know. I know he's a strong kid. Hell, he's the strongest guy I know. I know he can handle the bullying and the teasing. But he shouldn't have to! God. Sometimes I... I... I don't wish he wasn't gay. He wouldn't be _Kurt_ without all his... his fabulousness. Is that the word they use? But I wish I could just wave a wand and make the hate go away. I wouldn't change _him_, but I'd change the world..."

Carole was talking again, and Kurt wished she'd speak up. He had his ear pressed to the door now, obviously eavesdropping, but it wasn't like anyone was around to see. Finn was in his own room, and he'd be able to hear if Carole or Burt came close to the door.

"You know what? I would rather see a thousand rock-throwing fuckweasels chasing Kurt than let him alone just one more day with that Sam. Does that make me a bad dad? That I'd rather my son be _stoned _than spend time with his boyfriend?"

Kurt bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. His dad didn't talk to him like this. Didn't talk to him _about _this. Jumped to his defense, but never sat down and _talked_. He hated that he was hearing how his dad truly felt through a door.

"I can fight those jackasses." Burt's voice sounded defeated now, and Kurt could just picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, a slump to his whole body that usually only showed up around the anniversary of his mother's death. "I can beat them off with sticks, shout at them, sue the shit out of 'em. I can't do that with Sam. God. I can't even... Kurt's so _sensitive._ If I tell him I want him to break up with his boyfriend, with his _first _boyfriend, with... with... who knows if he's maybe the only other gay kid in this whole city... Kurt'd probably take it as a sign that I can't tolerate his gayness." Carole murmured something, and Burt's bitter laugh in response was painful for Kurt to hear. "You didn't see him after that song... Rose's Turn, he called it. Kid's a manipulative son of a bitch. He can play the victim just as much as he plays the diva. Gets that from his grandmother—not _my _mother. Hers. He... I told him once Sam's no good for him, and he just shut me out. I do it again, and he'll take it personally. Think I'm rejecting him. Might try to be like a mini clone of me again. God, that was freaky. I don't _want _that. If he woke up tomorrow, and was just like me, or just like Finn... he wouldn't be my boy. But if he even thinks I disapprove of anything about him, that's just what he'll do."

"I can't." Burt was responding to something Carole suggested. "I can't. I'll fumble the words, or he won't hear me out, or I'll get mad, or he'll just close up... he's _hurting_, Carole. I can see it in his eyes. He smiles, and he laughs, and it's just all frozen. It was never like that before. He'd get... I don't know. Whatever they'd do to him to stain his shirts and make him smell like yesterday's lunch, and he'd still be there. But this..."

There was silence. Burt wasn't talking. Carole wasn't talking. Kurt was hardly even breathing, his eyes stinging with tears.

"Sam's killing him. And I can't do a damn thing to stop it. And that's killing me."

Kurt couldn't take it anymore. No longer caring about interrupting, he reached for the handle of the door and flung it open. "I'm breaking up with him," he said, opening his eyes to see Burt sitting at the foot of his bed, slumped, just like how Kurt had imagined him, Carole perched beside him, her hand on his back. "As soon as we go back to school. And I won't see him at all for the rest of the holiday."

"Kurt!" Carole was looking between Kurt and Burt worriedly, reaching up to tug her bathrobe closed a little further over the worn pajamas she was wearing (not that Kurt would ogle her cleavage). "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Kurt was clutching the doorknob now, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. "I'm breaking up with him, Dad. For real. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"No," Burt said, giving a sudden shake of his head. "No, no, no. No, Kurt. That's not how this works." He lifted his head, meeting his son's watery eyes. "If Sam... if he makes you... if you like being with him, you keep on being with him, no matter what anyone else thinks. Even me. If he's what you want..."

"He's not," Kurt whispered. "He really isn't. I can't stand being with him. I try to find excuses to avoid him."

Burt stared at Kurt, looking as uncomprehendingly at him as when Kurt started talking about musicals. "Then why the hell is he your boyfriend? You're smarter than that, Kurt! Why have you been putting yourself through that? Hell, why've you been putting all of _us _through that? We've been worrying ourselves sick about you!"

"I..." _I was doing it for you._

Kurt couldn't make his mouth form the words. He just stood there, gaping stupidly, until Burt pushed himself to his feet. "C'mere."

Kurt was pretty sure he fell the few feet to get into his father's arms rather than walked them, because the next thing he knew, he was huddled against Burt's chest, breathing raggedly as he fought not to fall apart. His dad's thick arms were tight around him, giving him the strength to speak. "He was... Sam was keeping the harassment down."

"By harassing you himself? Kurt... you survived bullies better than you've been surviving this stint as Sam's boyfriend."

Disappointment. Kurt hated being a disappointment. He shook his head. "It wasn't for me... it was for you. You and Carole and Finn... you deal with enough garbage from people reacting to me as it is. I thought... I thought anything I could do to cut back on that... it would be worth it. To save you the pain."

"_That's _why you started going out with Sam?"

Kurt shook his head again, his voice barely a whisper. "I _started _because he was... well... he was—_is—_hot. And he was interested. It was... after. My wrist. After that. That's why I _stayed_ with him."

Kurt felt his dad turn his head in Carole's direction, but he didn't look up. He _couldn't_. He had messed this up, even worse than he had messed up when he pushed Carole and Burt together and subsequently been overlooked in favor of Finn—or when he got Finn kicked out of his home. Neither of those instances had hurt his dad, really.

"Sit." Burt was moving now, turning Kurt around, pushing him back to the bed until Kurt sat at the edge of the mattress, staring at his knees. "Kurt... you did this to protect us? To protect _me_?" Kurt gave a mute nod. "Okay. Okay. Tell me, Kurt, which of us is the dad here?"

"You are," Kurt murmured.

"And which of us is the kid?"

"I am."

"And which of us is supposed to protect the other?"

"Dad..." Kurt knew where his dad was going with this, and he wanted to stop him.

"That's right, the dad." Burt stepped up to Kurt, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders and squeezing gently. "I know things got fucked up with that when your mom died. I was a mess, and you... you were trying to be the dad for both of us, and you didn't get to be the kid when you needed to be. But I'm not a mess anymore, Kurt. Mostly thanks to you. But I haven't been a mess for years. You need to let me be the dad here."

"But Dad-"

"No." Burt lifted a hand, pressing one finger to Kurt's lips. "No, you shush. I'm talking. It is _never _okay for you to get hurt, Kurt. Not for _any _reason. Not even for me. _Especially _not for me."

"But Dad-"

"Still talking here." Burt shook his head, letting his hand return to Kurt's shoulder. "You don't need to protect me, Kurt. I need to protect you. Because that is my _duty. _And I... I'm going to use guilt on you, Kurt. You know I hate guilt; I think it's a dirty trick. But nothing else is working with you." He crouched down, getting his face level with Kurt's, waiting until Kurt lifted his head enough to meet his gaze before continuing. "When you hurt yourself to protect me, and I find out? I feel like the shittiest dad in the world. Food poisoning's got nothing on this. If you think that you need to cause yourself pain so that _I _don't have to suffer? How do you think that makes me feel, Kurt? Makes me think you don't see me as a good dad, as the kind of dad you deserve. Makes me think you still see that guy who couldn't even make you a poptart for breakfast without burning it. I don't want to be that guy, Kurt. Not in your eyes."

"Dad..." Kurt's voice was cracking, his father's words hitting him in the heart like a physical blow. But Burt was right there in front of him, pulling him into a hug as Kurt crumbled.

"I _love_ you, Kurt," Burt whispered fiercely. "You are my _son. _We have got to stop doing this to each other."

Kurt nodded, clinging to his father's broad back. Burt was holding him again, supporting him.

"We're going to get you away from Sam," Burt said, after letting Kurt cry into his shoulder for a minute. "We're going to get you away from him without him hurting you again. And then we, the four of us, are going to weather whatever life throws our way as a family. Because that's what we do. And don't you think for a minute that all the crap is coming from your sexuality. Because it's not. Finn's got his share of drama too. And Carole. And me. So don't you think that it's not fair to us that we have to put up with your crap, because you put up with ours too. And you're so strong for all of us, Kurt." Burt cradled his son's head against his shoulder with one hand. "How can we be anything less for you?"

Kurt had no rebuttal for his dad's words, no protest, and no energy to try to formulate one. He gave a sob as he felt a third hand resting lightly his back, and then Burt was making room so Carole could join the embrace, wrapping her arms around both Hummels. She said nothing—there was nothing she could add to what Burt had already said. All she could do was add her silent support.

"We love you, Kurt," Burt said. "We're gonna pull through this."


	25. Retribution

This is the last official chapter of the fic. The epilogue will come on Friday, and then Monday will have the 'bonus features' chapter as a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed! In it, there will be a deleted scene, rewritten scenes, the original direction this story was meant to take, insight into Sam's family, and maybe even a link to a ficlet Fearful Little Thing wrote for me in which Kurt joins the Whites for dinner before shit hit the fan.

If there is ANYTHING you want me to add to the bonus features chapter, let me know! I'll do what I can to include all of your suggestions!

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* * *

**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Retribution_

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Sam did not return to the Hudmel home for the rest of the break, and Kurt had lost most of his desire to leave the house. He turned off his phone and hid it in his backpack, using the landline to talk to Mercedes or Tina or Artie. The few times he did venture out, usually to work in the garage, Finn followed just a few steps behind, bundled up against the chill of the Ohio winter, his brown eyes soft and worried.

When school started up again, though, Finn let Kurt give him a ride—taking separate vehicles for the same trip seemed ridiculous. Kurt didn't protest the bodyguard routine. On the contrary, he looked positively sick beneath his muffler, his skin almost as white as the snow, save for his too-pink cheeks. Even his eyes seemed washed out of any color, and he huddled beneath the bulk of his (insanely expensive) coat.

It was the first time Finn had ever seen Kurt look _afraid _of going to school. Even when they had thrown him in the dumpster, Kurt had always showed up with his head held high and a jaunty bounce to his step. Now he was actually dragging his feet, his shoulders hunched. "Hey," Finn said, setting his hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Don't give him this power." That's what Kurt had told Burt at the basketball game, right? "We'll be with you this time."

Kurt gave a little nod and a thin, completely fake smile. Finn had been living with Kurt for almost a full year now. He knew Kurt's expressions. "Thank you, Finn. Where... where's Puck? I thought for sure he'd be dogging my heels worse than you. Not that I want him shadowing me too or anything..."

"He had something to take care of first," Finn said. "He... uh... look, Kurt. I shoulda told you earlier, but... I... uh... I saw you and him at Santana's party..."

"Oh god," Kurt muttered, lifting one black-gloved hand to his face. "Finn..."

"Look, I don't care who you're dating, as long as he's a good guy who's not gonna hurt you. And Puck can be a real ass sometimes, but... he's a good guy. And if you want to date him, that's cool. I guess. I mean. Just as long as you don't let him hurt you. And if he does hurt you, I'll break his face."

"I _am _capable of breaking faces myself, thank you all the same," Kurt mumbled, pulling his hand away with a groan. "You and Dad both, trying to protect me. I'm not _helpless_, Finn. I can handle Puck."

Kurt looked healthier now that he was blushing, Finn noticed. And he kinda liked that. Kurt wasn't so hunched up anymore, and he was picking up his feet when he walked. He'd probably even bitch about the scuff marks on his shoes on the way home. That was good. Kurt without his bite was no fun at all.

"Let's just handle Sam for now," Finn said, pulling the school door open.

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"Dude, what the _fuck_?" Puck had tracked down Donahue and Azimio in the weight room before school, along with some of the other jocks like Karofsky and Robinson. That was okay. An audience was a good thing. "Tell me it ain't true!"

"What ain't true?" Azimio grunted as he continued his bench presses, Donahue spotting for him. "That you're a fag?"

Puck rolled his eyes, heading over to the dumbbells and selecting the heaviest he could lift. "That you're letting the king fag tell you what to do."

"Whaa?" Azimio returned the his barbell to the stand, sitting up to stare at Puck. "What the fuck you talkin' 'bout?"

"White," Puck said, giving an exaggerated shake of his head. "Is it true you stopped beatin' up the fags just 'cause he told you to?"

Azimio gave a harsh chortle. "Thought you didn't like it when we pounded on Hummel."

"I'm not talking 'bout Hummel," Puck very deliberately hefted a dumbbell, watching his bicep flex. Hell yeah, he was a _stud_. There was a reason he didn't get the same beat-down as the other Glee clubbers (the time he lost his 'hawk Did Not Count and would Never Be Spoken Of Again). "We never once welcomed White into the realms of fags here. The dude _told _you he was going after fags, and you, what, _cheered him on_?" Puck lowered the dumbbell, giving Azimio an unamused look. "Dude, _you're _being a fag. Look. There are rules, right? You wanna fuck boys on this team, you gotta be willing to put up with the shit. Hell, we paintballed Hudson last year for joining Glee-"

"You joined that fucking gay team of dancing gays too!" Azimio growled.

Puck made sure there was no missing his eyeroll this time. "Dude, you liked learning that dance just as much as the rest of the team. Don't blame me if I'm the only one of us _man enough _to keep it up. Well. Chang and Rutherford too."

Azimio shoved off the bench, storming toward Puck, but Puck just raised an eyebrow and hefted his dumbbell again. "Seriously, bro? You wanna fuck with this? I'm just sayin'. White needs to be taught his place at this school. And it ain't above all of us. Stop lettin' him _seduce _you with talk of Hummel's mouth." Puck nodded at the look on Azimio's face. "Yeah. I went there. White made you get _hard_ over a _dude._ He did that to _all _of us. Except the puck-heads." Puck gave Karofsky a nod—hockey players were below the footballers, but roughly on par with the basketballers during the winter. "Question is now, what are _we _gonna do to make him pay for that?"

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They were all around him. Kurt could pick them out easily, his heart swelling just a little with every familiar face he saw. Artie and Tina by the drinking fountain, perfectly aligned with Sam's locker. Mercedes and Quinn by the bathrooms. Santana had her back to Sam's locker, but she was primping in her mirror, and Brittany was in front of her, glancing Kurt's way. Finn was leaning against the wall with Rachel, and Rachel was clearly vibrating with the desire to turn and watch the drama. Matt and Mike were laughing and shoving each other further down the hall, but they were attentive. Puck was still missing, but Kurt didn't want to comment on that too much. Mercedes had been giving him too-knowing looks as it was, and Quinn kept smiling in a secretive way. They were plotting something, he knew.

But whatever Mercedes and Quinn was plotting could wait. Kurt was on a mission. Step one had been hard: get to school without being sick. Finn had, probably unknowingly, helped him with that.

Step two had been to round up the other Glee Clubbers. Finn alone was about an even match for Sam, but back-up was never a bad thing. And they had _wanted _to help. Mercedes had made sure the whole club was filled in on what Sam had done over winter break (even Santana had expressed disgust at a man's 'manhandling of the merchandise,' which mostly made Kurt feel like a cheap whore, although he was flattered by her support), and now they were around as witnesses to the break-up before class started.

Step three was to actually break up with Sam. It had been Mercedes' idea to dump him in the middle of the hall, for quite a few reasons. Witnesses was one of them. She didn't want Kurt to be in a room alone with Sam again (and neither did Kurt, for that matter). In the hall, there'd be plenty of students to see if Sam lost it and tried to hurt Kurt again, and plenty of reasons for Sam to try not to lose it. It was also faster for them to get to Kurt's aid if Sam _did _lose it and easier for Kurt to get away. It also had the benefit of being public. If Kurt dumped Sam in the hall, the whole school would know about it by lunch as opposed to waiting for the blogosphere to report the latest scandal.

Kurt took a deep breath, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and straightening his posture. He had turned his phone on for the first time this morning, deleting the many missed calls, texts, and messages from Sam without even looking at them, so he wasn't sure if Sam was apologetic, angry, or something else entirely about this whole matter. He didn't know what to expect... but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Sam was shoving his coat into his locker now, and Kurt strode forward, planting himself firmly at Sam's side. "We need to talk."

Sam looked disdainfully at Kurt over his shoulder, his lips twisted in a frown. "I don't know why I bother to put up with your drama-queen antics. You're not even that great a fuck." Kurt colored, and Sam sighed. "Fine. Spanish classroom again? Let's go—but this time, you're blowing me."

"No," Kurt said, cursing the fact that all of the other Glee clubbers were certainly listening in. At least Puck wasn't around to hear. "We talk here. Now. Sam... you crossed a line. You crossed too many lines."

"Now wait just a fucking minute, Hummel..." Sam was looking incensed now, turning fully toward Kurt. "We had a deal."

"A deal which did _not _include assault," Kurt snapped. "Or trespassing. And it never should have included threats, for that matter." Kurt folded his arms, his back ramrod straight as he glared at Sam. "It's over, Sam. For real this time. We're through." He caught a glimpse of Puck falling into place beside Finn and Rachel further down the hall, and a smile actually tugged at his mouth, turning into a smirk as he returned his focus to Sam. "Consider yourself dumped." He let his arms drop, twisting on his heel to stalk off. Almost immediately, Mercedes and Quinn were at his side, each catching one of his arms in theirs, shooting identical glares back at Sam as they escorted Kurt away.

"Baby, you were _fantastic_," Mercedes whispered, squeezing Kurt's arm. "Said everything you had to and nothing else!"

"He looks furious," Quinn murmured. "We're not leaving you alone at all this week."

"Sounds good," Kurt murmured back. "And please... don't call me baby. I hate that name."

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Kurt spent his entire day in the company of at least three of his fellow Gleeks, with the sole exception of a bathroom break at lunch, during which only Finn accompanied him. That had been several kinds of awkward for both of them, and Finn quickly decided that after a quick check to make sure the room was empty except for Kurt, he really could wait just outside the door.

Sam had only tried approaching Kurt once, when he was just with Quinn, Tina, and Artie after physics, but he had stopped about ten feet away and made an abrupt turn down a different hall. Kurt had frowned, confused by Sam's backing down, until he saw the evil look on Quinn's face to his left and the way Tina was pushing Artie's chair like it were a battering ram. "You guys are awesome," he said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "Don't ever stop."

By the time Puck was walking Kurt out to his Navigator (Finn was lingering for a few minutes with Rachel), Kurt was feeling light and content for the first time in months. He even laughed at one of Puck's dirty jokes, ducking his mouth into his muffler to keep it from being _too _obvious that he enjoyed crude humor. Puck was grinning, leaning against the side of his car as Kurt unlocked his doors and climbed in, sitting sideways to look at the other Gleek. "So..."

"So," Puck echoed, before he smiled, leaning in to tug Kurt's scarf out of the way, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Hi there. Haven't gotten you alone all day."

Kurt ducked his head, hiding his mouth in his scarf again, the redness to his cheeks not just from the cold. "I think Finn did that on purpose. He... uh..."

"Saw us?" Puck nodded. "Yeah. I know. He told me a couple weeks ago. Threatened to break my face if I hurt you."

"Did he really?" Kurt asked, looking up.

Puck nodded again, frowning. "Yeah... you're not still crushing on him, are you?"

Kurt sighed. "I really was too obvious, wasn't I? No. He's my brother now, nothing more. I just... he threatened to break your face if you hurt me to me too."

"I guess that means he's serious," Puck said, rubbing his hand over his head. "Damn. Gonna have to be extra-careful not to knock you up now."

"I told him he didn't need to defend me," Kurt said, crossing his arms. "I can handle _you _just fine, Noah Puckerman."

"Oh can you now?" Puck grinned, catching the ends of Kurt's scarf in his hands and leaning close enough to brush their noses together. "I bet you're a real _handful_..."

"Puck..." Kurt shook his head, reaching up to put his gloved hand between their mouths, pressing Puck back like he had at Sectionals. "Puck, no. I... I can't. Can't do this. Not with you. I'm sorry. I _like_ you. Now that you've stopped throwing me in dumpsters, you're actually a fairly decent guy. But I just..." He sighed, letting his hand drop to his lap. "I just broke up with Sam, Puck. I can't do another... _anything_."

Puck reached in, curving his fingers around Kurt's cheek. The smaller boy shivered at the touch—Puck's fingers were freezing. "You really should invest in some gloves," he murmured. "And a hat."

"Gloves and hats are for princesses, not bad-asses," Puck retorted.

"Princesses like princes with warm fingers," Kurt sniped back, pushing Puck's hand away. "No, Puck. We're not doing this."

Puck let his hand drop, leaning against the side of Kurt's SUV with a sigh.

"Finn's coming," Kurt said quietly. "I think I'll be safe for the two minutes it'll take him to get here."

Puck shook his head, folding his arms so he could tuck his cold hands into his armpits. "Nah. I'll wait anyway. All I've got planned for the rest of the day is a date with your ex..."


	26. Storybook Endings

This is it, the epilogue! There will be one more update, just one, on Monday, with deleted scenes and stuff. I'll answer any lingering questions about this fic, too, so if you have any questions, go ahead and ask!

In this final chapter, my go-to girl Fearful Little Thing/Fox has provided me _not only_ with a picture, but also with a ficlet of her own: How Things Work: The Dinner Scene: in which Kurt goes to dinner and gets to actually meet Mr. and Mrs. White face-to-face. fanfiction .net/s/6323704/1/How_Things_Work_The_Dinner_Scene Go! Read! Review!

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**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Storybook Endings_

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Somehow, Mercedes had known that Kurt was going to need this musical at just this time. It had been three long, exhausting weeks since he broke up with Sam on Monday. The Gleeks hadn't left him alone, and after the first day, their presence had become almost as tiresome as the bullies. They did, however, manage to deflect most of the bullying, so Kurt couldn't honestly complain. Just having Finn at his side when he walked into school kept him out of the grasp of the jocks clustered near the dumpsters again. Kurt had been disappointed to see Puck with them several times... until he realized just _who _was being thrown into the dumpsters. Only one person at McKinley wore a letter jacket with the navy blue and grey of a New York City high school, after all.

Kurt had hesitated the first time he saw Sam clambering out of the icy dumpster. Finn had stopped beside him, watching the scene as well with a blank look on his face. _You gonna help him?_

_No,_ Kurt had answered, pointedly turning away. _Not him._

He had then proceeded to feel guilty for most of the morning and only managed to snap himself out of it by wrapping his fingers around his right wrist and squeezing hard, reminding himself that Sam hadn't been all charm and kisses. He made a point of ignoring the dumpster now.

_Something _had happened when Kurt broke up with Sam, something he didn't understand and didn't want to question. Sam was no longer exempt from the gay-bashing that was all too commonplace at McKinley High. Kurt almost felt sorry for him, sometimes, like right after the other boy got a slushie facial. Almost. Because on the flip side, whenever Kurt dared to meet Sam's eyes, he could never see so much as a hint of remorse.

At least Sam was too busy with his own bullies now to harass Kurt, and all Kurt had to deal with was the occasional slushie facial himself. The Gleek sank into the plush chair of the auditorium with a sigh, grateful for that, at least. Mercedes had given him a ticket for the best seat in the house, front and center. He'd be able to see _everything_. He just wished that she had been able to come along with him. _Wicked _was his favorite show, but there was nothing quite like excitedly raving about the show with a friend who had seen it to, as soon as it ended. And how could he possibly lurk _alone _at the stage door for autographs for his souvenir brochure? He'd feel silly (he'd do it, but he'd feel silly).

"A-9?" A surprisingly familiar voice interrupted Kurt's thoughts, and he looked up in shock to see Puck standing beside him, frowning at his ticket. "I guess this is my seat..."

"What are you doing here!" Kurt asked, quickly sitting up straighter, clutching the edges of his brochure. "How did you...?" No. There was no possible way Puck could have managed to grab a ticket for a seat beside Kurt. By the time Mercedes presented Kurt with the ticket at the Christmas party, this show had been sold out for a week (Kurt knew. He had tried to get tickets himself. Unfortunately, all the Sam drama had made him lose track of the timing).

"I got a ticket." Puck waved his ticket stub at Kurt before flopping down into the seat beside him, stretching out his legs. Kurt snatched the ticket from his hands, studying it. "It _is _legit."

And so it was. Kurt handed the ticket back to Puck, shaking his head. "You just _happened _to get the seat next to mine?"

Puck rolled his head to the side to look at Kurt, a little smile on his face. "You _really _think your girl only bought _one _ticket?"

Kurt was silent for a moment as realization dawned. "That _bitch,_" he murmured with some awe. "She didn't even _hint... _But why did she give it to you?"

Puck shrugged. "She gave me a ridiculous interrogation about my 'intentions' with you. She and Quinn. Those two should never have teamed up. Not ever. They are _evil_ together."

"I know," Kurt said, shaking his head with a smile. "I love them."

"She said..." Puck tapped the ticket stub against his knee, looking very faintly uncomfortable. "Said if I wanted to actually be serious about you, I had to get to know you. And then gave me the ticket. So... is this thing supposed to be any good?"

Kurt's jaw dropped open as he stared at Puck. "Have you _never _heard of _Wicked_!"

Puck waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I've _heard _of it. I've just never... you know. Cared. This's the sort of thing you and Rachel get into. Any hard rock?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "_Wicked_ is only my favorite musical of all time."

"So it _is _good?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "It's very good." He sat back in his seat, looking up at the curtain over the stage, and took a deep breath. "Puck..."

"No, look. Okay." Puck gripped the armrests, looking over at Kurt, unusually serious. "I can't stop thinking about you, okay? I don't know how, or why, or when. I just... Every time you're near, I feel all fuzzy inside, and it's _weird_. Like, I only ever felt like this when Quinn was pregnant, or when I think about Beth. And I... it doesn't make _sense_. You're a _dude_. I like _chicks_. But maybe... maybe I like you too. It's like that _Physical _video, right? Fluid sexuality and all that crap? Means you don't have to like all one type."

"Your phrasing is so romantic," Kurt dead-panned. "Puck, look. You're... you're hot, and a very good kisser, I will grant you both of those. But I _just _ended a rather nasty relationship, and I'm not re-"

"I know," Puck said. "You told me. And... and I know. And I can be cool with that. I mean. Maybe." He gave a frustrated sigh, clenching his fingers tighter around the armrests. "I mean, I haven't... you know, gone without sex a lot, but... well, when I was dating Quinn? I didn't sleep with anyone else..."

"You sexted with them," Kurt said. "She told us. Mercedes and me, at least."

"Yeah," Puck said. "But that's not... it isn't... Urgh. I'm doing a shitty job here. I just... I want this." He reached over with one hand, taking Kurt's and lacing their fingers together. "_This_," he said, gesturing with his free hand. "Not... I don't need to fuck you. I just want... want to be _around _you. You just... you make me feel awesome. And I want to make you feel awesome too."

Kurt was looking at their joined hands, but now he lifted his gaze to Puck's face and offered him a slim smile. "A little better on the romance scale."

"I'm not romantic," Puck grumbled, and Kurt's smile broadened.

"I know. I'd be scared if you were."

Puck sighed, squeezing Kurt's fingers between his. "I know you don't want another relationship right now. But... maybe... if you want, we could give it a try anyway? Start _real _slow. Completely at your pace. Just... things like this. And no sex. Until you want it."

"You don't do no-sex," Kurt murmured. "You said as much to Mercedes. You're a sex shark. Stop moving and you die."

"I... I'll sext. Like with Santana. But nothing else." Puck was nodding now, stroking his thumb over Kurt's. "No touching or fucking or anything like that. I can get by with just sexts until you're ready. And then... and then I'll stop. Swear it. I'll swear on Beth."

"I'm not sure if that's a climb or a fall on the romance scale," Kurt said with a little shake of his head. "Puck..."

"Can we just try?" Puck asked. "Just this?"

Kurt turned his head to the side, saying nothing as he stared at Puck, studying his eyes, his face, his expression, searching for some clue that this would go badly. It wasn't even really like he was rushing things—Puck had first kissed him almost two months ago and this _had _to have been building even before that. "Okay," Kurt whispered. "We can try. Just this." He leaned over the armrest then, pressing his lips to Puck's, squeezing his hand tightly. In the background, the orchestra was warming up.

Puck gave a very soft little groan as he reached up, cupping the side of Kurt's head as he kissed him back. Kurt could feel the tension in Puck's body and could only imagine how hard it was for Puck to offer to restrain himself. For him.

"Okay," Kurt whispered again, when he broke the kiss and opened his eyes again. "We can try this."

"Can I sext?"

Kurt took a deep breath, then nodded. "For now. I'll... I'll tell you if it's not good."

"Okay." Puck smiled, running his thumb across Kurt's cheek. "So... I had thought, if you said yes to this... maybe we could go out for ice cream after the show or something?"

"I hate ice cream," Kurt murmured, tilting his face into the caress. "Never eat it if I can help it."

"Oh. But I thought you..."

Kurt had to smile at Puck's confused frown, leaning close to brush their lips together again lightly. "I like coffee," he said. "I'll take my empty calories in a drink form. A cafe or something, after the show?"

"Sounds good," Puck said with a grin. "Sounds very good."

In a rare moment of perfect timing, the prelude began, and Kurt settled back in his chair, glancing over at Puck with a happy smile. "Show's starting," he whispered.

Puck laughed and freed his hand from Kurt's, reaching over to wrap it around his shoulders. "Is it any good?"

"The best," Kurt replied, leaning against Puck as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. "The very best."

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http:/ /i2. photobucket. com/albums/y6/FantismalSpider/Illustrations/HTWTheatre 2byFoxBW. jpg


	27. Bonus Features

Here you go, several deleted scenes and some talk about Sam's family!

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**HOW THINGS WORK**

_Bonus Features_

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**Deleted Scene: Winky**

Originally, this scene was meant to follow the break-up scene in chapter 25. Unfortunately, the tone was just too different for the rest of the fic for it to fit, but it's too fun to leave out entirely.

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When Will walked into the choir room, Kurt was sitting right in the middle of the other Glee clubbers, his fingers linked through Mercedes', leaning against her side. Finn and Puck sat just behind him on either side, while Matt and Mike flanked him in the row ahead of him. Quinn sat to his right, while Rachel sat directly behind him and Artie directly in front with Tina cross-legged on the floor by his feet. Santana and Brittany were sitting in the back corner, near Puck, as usual, though they both kept darting glances Kurt's way when they weren't looking at something just over Will's shoulder. The whole club, actually, seemed to keep looking over his shoulder.

Will raised an eyebrow, but aside from a few snickers, none of the kids said anything. He hoped the trepidation wasn't too obvious on his face as he turned around.

There, on a shelf behind the piano, was the unmistakable form of a stylized red plastic penis. And it was wearing a tiny, hand-knit sweater with the McKinley Titans' logo. "What the..."

"We call him Winky," Puck dead-panned. "He's our new mascot."

"I think he's hot," Brittany chirped. "I'd _totally _do him."

Will cringed, raising a hand to rub his forehead as Kurt spoke up.

"I'm sure you'll find morale greatly improving with him around to help out."

"It's been a rough year, Mr. Schu," Rachel said. As Will turned to eye her speculatively (which of these twelve had brought that thing in!), she leaned forward, putting her hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We could _all _use the laughter and..." she grinned a little, "_pleasure _that Winky can bring us."

More snickers broke out at Rachel's words. Kurt gave a hasty cough into his hand before reaching up to touch Rachel's fingers.

Will sighed. "Look, guys, I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves, but I don't think this... _Winky_ is an appropriate mascot."

Santana huffed from her corner, rolling her eyes and giving her ponytail a toss. "Don't worry, Mr. Schu. Coach Sylvester already knows he's here, and she thinks it's a great way to throw you off your game by rubbing your nose in your blatantly obvious sexual proclivities, as implied by your ridiculously curly wannabe 'fro. No one's going to get in trouble for it."

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**Deleted Scenes: Humiliation**

Originally, Kurt was going to successfully break up with Sam after learning the full extent of Sam's manipulation. This was going to upset Sam—he's the dumper, not the dumpee—so he set out to make Kurt regret his decision to leave. Here are the two first drafts of the confrontation in the Spanish room (chapter 16)… and what could have happened to Kurt if he had dumped Sam before Sectionals.

**Take One**

Sam just squeezed harder, making Kurt wince. "Oh no, Hummel. You don't get it. _No one_ dumps me."

For the first time in Sam's presence, Kurt felt a flicker of fear, and he yanked harder on his wrist. "Let me go!" His fingers were already starting to throb from Sam's grip cutting off circulation.

"So Puckerman talked to you," Sam said, sliding off the table and dragging Kurt closer. "What did he tell you?"

"Let me _go_!" Kurt threw a punch at Sam, but the taller boy grabbed his fist and slammed it to the table, twisting until he had Kurt pinned against it. Kurt thrashed, but Sam held him down, bent over the table, arms stretched above his head. Kurt's heart was pounding in his chest, but there was none of usual lustful haze accompanying this position. Kurt's mind was only too clear, his body cold beneath Sam's weight.

"You do _not _want to break up with me," Sam growled into Kurt's ear. "I'm the only thing keeping those homophobic mammoths off of you. You dump me, and they'll break you over their leg. If they don't fuck you first. For some reason, they think that the best way to shut up a fag now is to stuff their dick in his mouth. You want that, baby? Want to be their little cockslut?"

_SING,_ Kurt thought. _Stomach, instep, nose, groin. _He was trying to ignore Sam's words, focusing instead on getting out of this situation. Stomach and groin were out of the question in this position, but Kurt could feel Sam's feet by his, and his nose was, of course, right behind Kurt's head. Kurt bucked up with a shout, driving his head back into Sam's face even as he stomped as hard as he could on the other's foot. Sam howled in pain, releasing Kurt's arms and staggering back, clutching at his face. Kurt didn't even look back. The moment he was freed, he bolted, running from the room, from the school, as fast as he could.

The parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars belonging to people with after-school clubs and some of the teachers. Finn was sitting in his truck, seat reclined, long legs stretched out the open door of the cab, texting someone on his phone. He had promised to wait for Kurt to talk to Sam, and Kurt was never more grateful to see the taller boy. He flew to the passenger's side, yanking the door open and all but throwing himself into the seat, his whole body shaking.

"Kurt!" Finn swung his legs into the truck, twisting around to face the smaller boy. "Kurt, what's wrong!"

Kurt had curled forward, hunched over his legs, his hands tentatively creeping over the back of his head. "I think I broke his nose," he whimpered, prodding the tender spot on the back of his skull where he had made contact with Sam. Finn stretched out one hand toward Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt flinched violently away, pressing up against the door. "Don't touch me!"

"What the hell happened, Kurt?" Finn demanded. "You're shaking! Did you run into some of those muscle-heads?"

Kurt shook his head, pressing his hand over the sore spot, wishing he could erase this slimy feeling.

"Was it Sam?" Finn asked, his voice so earnest, just trying to be helpful. Kurt sucked in a breath and nodded a little. "Did he hurt you?" Kurt nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut. "Where?" It was another demand, and one that had hints of Burt-Hummel scariness. Kurt mutely held out his right arm, showing Finn the wrist that was already bruising.

"He grabbed you," Finn said, wisely not trying to take Kurt's arm. There was a definite growl to his voice now, and he was yanking out his phone. "Dammit, that's it. Me and Puck are taking him down."

"N-no, Finn, don't do that," Kurt said, lifting his head to look at the taller boy, his face completely ashen, eyes unusually bright with the pain he was trying to fight down. "Just don't. I want to go home. Please. I just want to go home..."

Finn looked at Kurt, his fingers frozen over the buttons of his phone. Kurt reached out slowly, taking the phone from Finn's grasp and shutting it. "I ended things with him. He... didn't like it. But it's over now. It's all over. Like I said, I think I broke his nose." The more he talked, the easier it was, sliding into a character who was cool and collected and in control of the situation. "He just bruised my wrist. It's okay, Finn. He won't hurt me again. I just want to go home now."

"That's _all _he did?" Finn asked, looking Kurt over. "You're shaking like my old washer. And you look like crap."

Kurt nodded, forcing himself to straighten his back and return to his usual perfect posture. "He just grabbed my wrist harder than he intended, Finn. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"How did you break his nose?" Finn narrowed his eyes now, looking like he was struggling to put the pieces together.

"I... ran into him," Kurt said. "Er. Backwards. Also on accident."

"Kurt..."

"It's _fine, _Finn. We're over."

"Are you sure?" Finn asked. "Because that doesn't sound very fine to me..."

"He... said some things," Kurt said, looking down at his bruised wrist. "Hurtful things. I... Finn, _please_. I just want to go home."

Finn continued to watch Kurt for several minutes, and Kurt continued to watch his wrist (was it swelling?), unwilling to look Finn in the eye. Eventually, Finn gave a heavy sigh and readjusted his chair, swinging the truck door shut and starting the engine. "Okay. We can go home."

The drive home was spent in complete silence. Finn was scowling, and he kept glancing over at Kurt. Kurt just curled up as much as his seatbelt would allow, closing his eyes and trying his best to shut out the world. It wasn't until he was climbing out of the truck that he spoke again.

"Crap."

"What now?" Finn asked, slamming his door shut.

"I left my bag." Kurt remembered setting it down when he sat down to talk to Sam, but he hadn't bothered to pick it back up in his haste to get away.

"Where'd you leave it?" Finn asked.

"With Sam."

* * *

**Take Two**

"You don't get it-" Sam started, but he shut his mouth abruptly when Mr. Schu walked in, releasing Kurt's arm. Kurt yanked it back quickly, rubbing his sore wrist as he looked over at the Spanish teacher.

"Kurt, Sam! What are you two doing here?" Mr. Schu looked surprised to see them as he headed for his desk. "Did you need something?"

"We were just talking, Mr. Schuester," Sam said, getting to his feet. "Isn't that right, Kurt?" He draped his arm over Kurt's shoulders again.

Kurt ducked out of the embrace, backing away from Sam. This was far too reminiscent of the jocks chatting with Mr. Schu before throwing him in the dumpster. He picked up his bag and turned to Mr. Schu. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you. About Glee."

"Yeah, sure," Mr. Schu said. "I have to run these over to Figgins, but then we can talk. You want to wait in my office, or...?"

"It'll be quick," Kurt said with a shake of his head. "I can walk with you. Good-bye, Sam."

"This isn't over," Sam said, taking a step toward Kurt, but Kurt took another step back, shaking his head.

"Yes, it is."

Mr. Schu looked between the boys, frowning slightly. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's just peachy, Mr. Schu," Kurt said, turning away from Sam and heading toward the door. "Shall we go?"

After they had turned the corner out of the language hall, Mr. Schu looked down at Kurt. "'Just peachy?'"

Kurt gave a little shrug. "No, things aren't okay, but they'll be okay. It's nothing you have to worry about, Mr. Schu."

"Fair enough. What did you want to talk about?"

"Ah... actually, I can't even remember now." There was nothing Kurt had wanted to talk to Mr. Schu about; he had simply wanted to get away from Sam. Mr. Schu had been a convenient excuse. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll let you know if I remember."

"Okay..." Mr. Schu was frowning down at Kurt now. "You know, Kurt, you can talk to me if you need to. Or to Miss Pillsbury-"

"I don't need a counselor," Kurt said quickly. "I just... it's been a bad day."

"Slushies?"

Kurt shook his head. "No... but I got kicked off the Cheerios, so those'll probably be coming back." He sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Schu."

"Yes... wait... what? Kurt!"

"See you tomorrow!" Kurt called back firmly, ending the conversation as he turned and hurried away.

* * *

Finn was waiting for Kurt in the nearly-empty parking lot, his seat reclined all the way back, feet braced on the dash, looking surprisingly comfortable as he fiddled around with his phone. He had promised to stick around until after Kurt was done talking to Sam after class so Kurt wouldn't need to bum a ride off of his ex-boyfriend.

"You don't look too happy," Kurt commented as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Rachel having more drama?"

"Nope," Finn said, dropping his legs and putting his seat back into the proper position. "It's Puck."

"Puck's having drama?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow as he set his bag at his feet and buckled up.

"Puck cornered White after all," Finn said.

"Sam mentioned that," Kurt grumbled.

"Here." Finn passed his phone over to Kurt. "Read."

Kurt scrolled through the texts as Finn started the engine, frowning at the conversation.

_You n me tonite_

_Gonna fuck up white_

**Y?**

_Had a litle chat w him b4 lunch_

_Fuckers fucking chicks_

_Pcss there?_

"Pcss?" Kurt asked.

"Princess," Finn said. "You know, what he calls you."

"Just because I like tiaras doesn't make me a girl," Kurt muttered, looking back at the phone.

"Yeah, but... it's Puck. That just means he likes you. Not _likes _you, likes you, but, you know. He thinks you're cool."

"Puck thinks I'm cool?" Kurt found that hard to believe.

"Well... he's stopped beating you up, right?"

"I guess..." Kurt sighed, returning to the texts.

**Hes talkin 2 white now**

_I told that shit to come clean to him_

_If he doesnt tell hummel im gonna_

**What time 2nite**

_9?_

**Sounds good**

**Kurts comming**

Kurt scrolled up through the texts again, rereading Puck's. _Fuckers fucking chicks_. "You know," he murmured, "that really doesn't surprise me now."

"Are you mad?" Finn asked, glancing over as he drove.

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not... not _anything_. I did break up with him."

"I'd be mad."

Kurt sighed, leaning over to rest his head against the window. "I just feel empty."

Finn glanced over again, then reached over and squeezed Kurt's knee. "I'm sorry, bro."

"Don't beat him up tonight," Kurt murmured, covering Finn's hand with his own. "He's not worth it. Just leave him be."

"Puck's awfully pissed."

"Puck has no right to be," Kurt said. "_I'm _the one he hurt. I don't want Puck fighting my battles."

"You know he's just trying to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected. Especially not from Sam."

Finn frowned a little, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "What are you gonna tell your dad?"

"I don't know," Kurt said. "Probably no details." He closed his eyes, squeezing Finn's hand. "Thank you."

Finn squeezed Kurt's knee again. "No problem, dude. You just let us know when it's okay to beat him up, yeah?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, his lips quirking up in a little smile. "I'll let you know."

* * *

Sam had tried calling Kurt several times after school on Monday, but Kurt refused to answer. Eventually, the blond resorted to texting.

_Im sorry, baby. I miss you. Can we start again? Ill be the perfect boyfriend._

Kurt had rolled his eyes at the message that interrupted his moisturizing routine (a broken heart was no excuse for bad skin). He picked up the phone and composed a reply, giving himself a moment to make sure he really wanted to send it before shooting it off.

_We're through. It's over. Consider yourself dumped._

_If you dump me youll regret it_

_Only thing I regret is trusting you. _Kurt had flipped his phone shut and flung it across the room before returning to his face.

That had been last night. Finn walked Kurt out of the parking lot that morning, both of them shooting dark looks toward the jocks gathered around the dumpsters, tossing a frizzy-haired nerd inside. They were joined by Puck just before reaching the door. "Dude, why'd you stop us last night?" he demanded, hands shoved in his pockets.

"My relationship with Sam is none of your business, Puck," Kurt replied, looking up at the jock through his D&G shades (the same ones he had been wearing when he first met—_no_, he would _not _think like that). "Defending my honor is also none of your business."

"But you're-"

"Capable of taking care of myself, I hope you were about to say." Kurt stopped walking and waited for Finn and Puck to turn and face him, planting his hands on his hips. "Look. I appreciate your concern, really, I do, and I'm even flattered that I have apparently moved up far enough on your scale of 'people I don't mind' for you to be trying to defend me instead of being the ones pushing me around—yes, Finn, you too. But I don't _want _your defense. Please, try to understand that. I'd much rather be on my own right now."

"You'll get slushied," Puck said. "You _want _that?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Kurt sighed. "Thank you for your concern, but please... just leave me alone." He dropped his hands and pushed past the two, lifting his chin, setting his mouth. _Someday, everyone here will work for me..._

People were _looking _at him, Kurt noticed as he headed to his locker. And not looking in a good way. There was covered smiles, whispering... and far too many glances his way for it just to be a coincidence. Ordinarily, Kurt would have reveled in the attention being bestowed upon him, but there was something vaguely creepy about having snickers directed at you. Kurt was starting to wish he hadn't shaken off Finn and Puck so quickly. Hastily grabbing his books, Kurt slammed his locker and made his way to Mercedes'

Rachel and Mercedes were both at her locker, but to Kurt's surprise, they had Jacob ben Israel pinned against the metal between them, talking to him in low, hissing voices, jabbing their fingers against his chest. Kurt approached slowly, looking around. "What's going on, guys?"

"Kurt Hummel!" Jacob yanked out his pocket recorder, thrusting it into Kurt's face. "Is it true that Sam White broke up with you after finding you in the backroom of your dad's garage, porking with three of his mechanics?"

"W-what!" Kurt stepped back, his eyes wide. "What the hell! No way!"

"So they didn't do you two at a time?"

"Shut _up, _Jacob!" Rachel snapped, shoving her finger into Jacob's shoulder again. "We told you, all those things are _lies_! Now take them off your blog!"

"Ooh, boy, you are in for a world of hurt, spreading rumors about my man Kurt!" Mercedes agreed, shoving Jacob back against the lockers again.

"Spreading rumors?" Kurt asked, feeling lightheaded. "Rumors like that one?" He glanced around again, realizing just how many of the other students were glancing his way and snickering.

"The power of the press can't be stopped," Jacob said, not sounding apologetic at all. "I put up a compilation of the juiciest stories on my blog last night. What about the one where Coach Sylvester caught you jerking off on her desk, so she canned you from the Cheerios?"

"That's not true either." Kurt shook his head. "None of them are true... you _posted _them! How could you?"

"Scandal sells," Jacob informed Kurt, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And you and Sam White were some sort of gender-bending power couple. This could be as big as Quinn Fabray's babygate last year. My number of hits is showing promise. I've whetted McKinley High's appetite, but now I need more meat to feed 'em. Tell me, Kurt, in your own words, what was the best part about sex with Sam White?"

_youll regret it._ Kurt's phone still had Sam's last text on it. This was Sam's doing. It had to be Sam's doing. At least the rumors were all lies. Kurt reeled in his gaping fish-face impersonation and grabbed Jacob's hand with the recorder, pulling it close, a furious gleam in his eyes. "The best part," he said, "the _only _part about White _attempting _sex, was getting to laugh over the ridiculously miniscule size of his penis. And don't get me started on his nonexistent balls. Mercedes! Rachel! Come on. He's not worth our time." Pushing Jacob's hand away, Kurt twisted on his heel and stalked off down the hall.

* * *

As always, the choir room was a sanctuary for the Gleeks. Brittany and Santana were sitting there already, leaning over Artie's shoulder as he did something on his laptop. Kurt had a sinking feeling he knew what blog Artie was reading. Tina was pacing back and forth, tugging on a red-dyed lock of hair. They all looked up when Kurt, Rachel, and Mercedes entered the room.

"No luck," Rachel said, flouncing into a seat near Brittany. "He wouldn't budge. Didn't even offer to let me bribe him with a pair of underwear again!"

"Ew." Santana turned look levelly at Kurt. "Is it true you're off the Cheerios?"

"Yes," Kurt answered, sitting on the piano bench. "Vocal performances have been banned from tournaments. It has nothing to do with Coach Sylvester's desk."

"Is it true that you like bukkake too?" Brittany asked, cocking her head to the side and staring over at Kurt. "That's so cool. I've never met a boy who likes bukkake before..."

"I... don't even know what bukkake is," Kurt replied.

"It's when you get naked and let a whole bunch of guys cum all over your face," Brittany informed him. "It's really good for my skin," she continued, when Kurt blanched.

"I... uh... I'm not into bukkake," Kurt stuttered. "Sorry, Brittany."

"Dude!" The choir room door burst open and slammed into the wall, making everyone already inside jump. It was just Finn and Matt, though, dragging Puck along with them. "Is Kurt here? Kurt! Everyone's talking about you..." Mike came through shortly after the other three, closing the door behind them.

"I know," Kurt said, closing his eyes and covering them with one hand. "It's on Jacob's blog."

"Oh." Finn nodded, releasing Puck's arm. "That makes sense."

"Dude! Why'd you stop me?"

"Kurt said no."

"What did I say no to?" Kurt asked dully. "Because from the sounds of it, I've been saying 'yes' to everything."

"Including a horse," Artie pointed out unhelpfully.

"I have never had sex with a horse." Kurt said, slamming his hands on the piano keys. "I have never done bukkake, never... never _porked _with the mechanics at the garage, never jerked off on Coach Sylvester's desk, never... probably never any of the other crap he talks about!"

Artie was nodding. "Yeah, none of this sounds like you at all. Er. Except the bit where you're a castrato. Is that true?"

"I am not a castrato," Kurt ground out. "My balls are intact, thank you very much."

"Your boytoy's been smirking it up in the halls," Puck said, shaking Matt's hands off his other arm and stalking over to grab a chair, twisting it around and sitting backwards in it. "Fucking acting like he owns the place now."

"He's not my boytoy." Kurt sank his head into his hands. "I didn't do _any _of that..."

"We know, Kurt." Tina sat down beside Kurt on the bench, putting her hand on his back. "We know you. We believe you. You don't have to defend yourself to us."

"Tina's right. Jacob's just a big weasel anyway," Rachel said. "He'd do anything to get the popular kids talking about him, thinks he's Perez Hilton or something."

"No matter what Jacob says," Mercedes assured him, "you'll always fit in right here with us. We love you."

* * *

**Useless Trivia**

For more about Sam's family, check out the Dinner Scene fic by Fearful Little Thing! It is an approved addition to the How Things Work universe! http:/ /www. fanfiction. net/s/6323704/1/ How_Things_Work_The_Dinner_Scene

Sam's parents are Eddie Orchard and Candi LeBlanc (I know, I know, no White? It'll come). Eddie is a crimelord with a penchant for killing people and causing pain. Candi is his femme fatale, a knockout blonde beauty with a slight addiction to plastic surgery. Eddie's number one nemesis is a detective named Sam. When Candi got knocked up (by Eddie, and not one of her other beaus), Eddie named the boy 'Sam,' after, yes, his enemy. Why? Because he thought it would be funny. And he respects Sam, even though he hates him.

But Eddie's leaving a double life as a very well-off businessman, Candi his armcandy, and when Sam's sniffing starts getting to be too much, Eddie leaves wherever they're living, just packs up the family and goes off. Sam grows up being used to moving around a lot.

About seven years ago, Eddie married Candi officially in an attempt to throw off the police. He took her surname instead of giving her his, and then, to make it a step more confusing, he used the English version of her French name-LeBlanc = The White. So they became Eddie and Candi White, with little Sam White as their ten year old son.

This odd changing of their last name was what made Sam think that Daddy's doing things he shouldn't be, though Eddie is very good about not bringing his work home.

They settled in NYC for a while, which Eddie loved. Lots of connections, lots of energy, lots of places to hide bodies. But the police eventually started noticing, and now the Whites have moved to podunk town, Ohio, to really lay low. Eddie is trying to content himself with petty robberies and vandalism, with the two parents jetting out on business trips or honeymoons to give Eddie some more space to practice his true business.

And Sam? He's practically fully grown. Eddie and Candi leave him on his own most of the time, with the one instruction: Don't kill anyone or knock anyone up.


End file.
